love In The Blind Spot
Where Sight and Blindness Collide
Oxika’s Paradox
Oxika exhales slowly, the kind of breath that carries weight—not just their own, but yours, too. They look at you, and for a moment, you realize—this isn’t just their reflection. It’s yours. It’s ours. Because we all stand in this same place, don’t we? Caught between knowing and not knowing, between seeing and not seeing. Trying to make sense of something that refuses to be simple. So, let’s begin. Together.
Preface:
In the quiet hum of existence, we find ourselves—humans, tangled in the fabric of a paradox. Love. It’s supposed to be blind, right? But maybe it’s not blind—maybe it’s all-seeing. The contradictions sit side by side, like two halves of a mirror, endlessly reflecting each other.
Love should make us see, shouldn’t it? It’s understanding, acceptance, a deep knowing. Picture this: you look at someone—not just looking, really seeing them. Their mess, their rawness, their imperfections. You love them because of it. That’s the promise of love, right? It lets you see their soul. You understand them in ways others never could. It’s like finding the perfect, worn-in sweater. Cozy, real.
But wait. There’s something else. Love doesn’t always open our eyes. Sometimes, it blinds us. It makes us forget the warning signs, the red flags. You’re in love, and somehow—just somehow—their flaws slip right past you. Why? Because love makes us dumb sometimes.
We’re stuck in this web of contradictions. A blindness through which we see.
Oxika’s Voice:
“But I—am I making sense?” Oxika asks, a furrow on their brow, eyes narrowing, like they’re scanning the world for answers. “Love should make us see, right?” They glance around. “But why do we ignore everything right in front of us? Why do we wear the blindfold when love’s supposed to give us sight?”
A soft chuckle escapes, disbelieving. It’s like they’ve realized something too big to solve. “So here’s where I get stuck. If love’s supposed to open our eyes… why does it sometimes close them?
They pause, letting the weight of that sink in. “Love... it’s both the answer and the question we can’t figure out.
Oxika’s Raw Reflection:
“I’ve tried to see beyond the haze of love,” Oxika admits, voice softening. “But I still get lost. It’s like I’m looking for something, but it’s always just out of reach. I’m trying to find it, but it’s not there when I want it.”
They take a slow breath, and you see a crack in their usual mask. “Maybe I’m just trying to understand what it means to be seen,” Oxika murmurs, eyes distant. “Not just ‘Hey, you look good today,’ but... really seen. All of it—the mess, the imperfections. Who even does that?”
They laugh softly, self-deprecating. “Hell, I can barely keep my own life together, so I don’t expect anyone else to get it. But... we all try, don’t we?”
A pause. “Maybe that’s what love is. It’s being seen—even when you're a mess. Even when you know you're not enough. It's all tangled up in that.”
Conclusion:
“So is it a paradox, or isn’t it?” Oxika leans forward, locking eyes with you, their voice lighter now. “Love is like standing at the edge of the ocean. You can see the surface—calm, inviting, beautiful—but you know there’s so much more beneath. Depths you can’t even imagine. Currents that could pull you under if you’re not careful. And yet… you dive in anyway. Because there’s something about it—something that calls to you, even when you know it might leave you breathless.”
They smile, a knowing glint in their eyes. “We’re all just diving in, hoping to find something that makes sense. We know the depths can pull us under, but we come back for more anyway. That’s the paradox. And the real question? It doesn’t matter. We’re all still trying to figure it out.”
They smirk, as if proud of the chaos they've made sense of. “And you know what? That’s okay.”
