Blinded

The music was deafening. She was jumping around drinking with her new frens and hugging them passionately. She didn’t care if their hands repeatedly grope her like orang utans. She just liked the attention which gave her security.

She danced a bit. The dark, noisy environment suited her. Places like this had turned into her sanctuary lately. She let herself drown in the pumping volume and the sea of people. Minutes later, she eyed a packet on the table, picked it up and took out one stick. She lit the stick and slowly dragged on it. Her new hobby…

She felt liberated.

What she didn’t know was she was being watched. Few pair of eyes were observing her disbelievingly like she was a specimen under a microscope.

Those eyes looked worried.

And

Those eyes were gleaming with sorrow.

I wonder. I really wonder.

Is LOVE itself blind?

Or

We let ourselves get blinded by LOVE?