Paranoia? Perhaps.

Please, relax, my friend, get comfortable, and ease your mind.
I ask you to read on, at a comfortable pace.

Now, permit me to engage with you for a moment.
There is something you need to know.

I know you better than you think.

You are sitting at your computer, looking at the screen, reading these words that I have typed long ago.
You are sitting quite comfortably, quite alert regardless of the hour.
You're perceiving the text scroll left to right as you read my words, saying aloud the words in your head, aren't you? You use your eyes this way quite often, don't you?

Reading, seeing, looking, searching... observing.

Suppose, perhaps, that you were being observed.
Right now.

A ludicrous notion; perhaps even paranoid.

But you'd be wrong to think so.

Indulge me.
Look around you, if you so please.

How many eyes do you see that fill your space?
How many cold stares that follow you as you move, sit, or stagnate?
Are they in the paintings on the wall?
The people in the crowd?
Perhaps the figurines on your dresser?
In the shadows of the dim?
Hiding in dark corners?
Under the bed, hmm?

Perhaps these are eyes unseen.
It does not matter where you are.
They don't like to be noticed.

Whether in public or private, living or dead, they are all too present.

Now... find how many eyes follow you.
But as you do, be aware that they are watching.

They see what you look at, they watch when you stare, when you blink, and they know that you are oblivious to them.
"They are inanimate" you say to yourself, reassuring the sense of comfort and calm.

Are they?

Do you really know this?
What if they weren't lifeless?
What if they aren't?
Not entirely.

They want you to believe this "fact".

Realize that you are being watched.
And you're blind to it.

Whether you believe me or not, you can't flee their gaze.
Attempting do so would be paranoid, but you're not crazy.
To leave it alone; nothing more than hesitation, perhaps denial.
There's nothing to worry about is there?
It's all too innocent, isn't it?
Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

I want you to do something for me: count the eyes.
Slowly.

Put yourself in their stead as you do this.
If you were watching, silently, hidden in plain sight, would you make it so obvious that you were there?
That you were indeed observing your mark?
Or you would you hide, tantalizingly close; obvious, yet not so much that you are found, waiting for the perfect moment?

That begs the question...
What could this moment be?
What could they possibly want with you?

Why do they watch?
Why do they watch you?

Well, would you really like to know?
If they are indeed watching you, would you want to know, knowing you are helpless?

Look deep into their stare, now, holding it fixed to your eyes.
Let them know that you see them watching.

Did you see it?
That fleeting flicker of an instant?
The life inside those eyes?
The liveliness of that which should be dead?

Think about this:
How long have these eyes been there?
Are they new?
Or have they been there quite some time?
How many memories are captured within those gleaming, matte, or hollowed-out eyes?

How many memories of which you are unaware?

The eyes are watching you, my friend.
Whether you like it or not, the eyes are there, staring at you.
Unblinking, cold; real.

Are they made of plastic, ceramic, paper, or ink?
Perhaps.
Are they the people in the crowd outside, or the neighbour in the window?
Possible.
But tell me, friend, at whom do they stare?
For how long?
And when you do look back, do your eyes connect by chance?
Or purpose?

Upon which person do their cold eyes fixate?
And who in this room, right now, isn't watching back?

They see you as you type.
They see you as you eat.
They see you as you read.
They watch you as you sleep.

You may perceive this to be nonsense, and that may suit you fine.
You may believe that this is nothing to dwell on, and that is expected.

If you do, however, feel queerly, beg the question "what if?".
Do you know the answer?

Of course you do.

You are being watched.
How does that make you feel?
And what will you do about it?

See you soon.
You won't see me.