Writing by Caeli Wilkerson
I can feel eyes on me.
It was an eerie feeling at first. Almost everywhere I went it felt like someone was watching me.
Grocery shopping, out with friends, tossing and turning in the middle of the night; the eyes were
always there. As time went on, the eyes became more and more intense. It felt like I couldn’t do
anything without the eyes being somewhere off in a space just outside of my vision. I grew tired
of the eyes. Every waking moment, unblinking.
It really started over the summer. I visited the beach my family went to every summer. I stood
there, now 24, with my best friend. We dug for shells, as I once did at 4. I ran into the water in
my clothes, as I once did at 9. I laid basking in the sun, as I once did at 14. As I sat on the
embankment I realized I would, with any luck, sit on this embankment at 40, as I once did at 24.
I turned and looked at my friend and I saw them the same as the day we met in high school.
Looking closer made me realize they were different. We were different. The two kids sitting at
the lunch table became two adults sitting on the beach, just praying everything would work out.
That’s when I felt the eyes for the first time. They followed me on our family vacation, they
followed me as we jumped on hotel beds and stayed up until 2 am eating ice cream. They grew
more intense in the seemingly unremarkable moments, washing my dishes or doing homework. I
was confused, as these are not things worth watching.
A month or so ago I found an old journal shoved in the back of a drawer. I couldn’t remember
what was in it, but as I flipped through the pages I realized what I was looking at. In my darkest
moments, almost 4 years ago now, I was told to make a list. To write down anything and
everything I could possibly want, anything that felt missing from my life. As I ran my finger
down the list of impossible wishes I came to a realization: I had it all.
My own bed, a kitchen for cooking dinner, to find the right school, a group of friends who cared.
Those were my wishes. As I continued to read I suddenly felt the eyes, more intense than ever,
watching me tick off every box. She was watching me. The girl curled up on the bathroom floor,
the girl who begged the universe for a chance, the girl who almost gave up. She asked for a sign
and there I was, folding my laundry.
Everything is remarkable when you realize it’s something you once wanted. She was peering
through a telescope, wanting to catch a glimpse. And it wasn’t just her, it was all of me. The 4
year old playing in the sand and the 15 year old at the lunch table, they were all watching. Each
achievement is to them a tiny miracle, a reason to keep going.
I can feel eyes on me, and I hope I make them proud.
