Look at me. look at me—let these words carve themselves into your awareness.
There is no room here to look away. Even if you strain every muscle to turn aside,
I remain. I am not a mist that vanishes in the breeze; I am the
tremor that shatters the mountain, echoing through the hollow of your chest. look at me, I command again.
The option of indifference has long since faded.

Look at me. look at me—let these words carve themselves into your awareness.
There is no room here to look away. Even if you strain every muscle to turn aside,
I remain. I am not a mist that vanishes in the breeze; I am the
tremor that shatters the mountain, echoing through the hollow of your chest. look at me, I command again.

Once, you may have observed from a distance, safe behind invisible walls. But the
moment I step into view, your gaze becomes my captive, orbiting me like a planet
ensnared by gravity. look at me—this simple invocation tightens your ribs, shakes
your breath, as if my silhouette is tattooed beneath your skin. You cannot evade it.

Once, you may have observed from a distance, safe behind invisible walls. But the
moment I step into view, your gaze becomes my captive, orbiting me like a planet
ensnared by gravity. look at me—this simple invocation tightens your ribs, shakes
your breath, as if my silhouette is tattooed beneath your skin. You cannot evade it.

Within me churns a silent refusal, an unspoken aversion that claws at my resolve.
Yet I cloak that denial in a mantle of steel, seizing your attention as my due. look at
me—this is both decree and dare, a whispered plea laced with defiance. There is no
shortcut through my eyes: pain, fear, contradiction swirl in their depths, and you
cannot drift past without sinking into them.

Within me churns a silent refusal, an unspoken aversion that claws at my resolve.
Yet I cloak that denial in a mantle of steel, seizing your attention as my due. look at
me—this is both decree and dare, a whispered plea laced with defiance. There is no
shortcut through my eyes: pain, fear, contradiction swirl in their depths, and you
cannot drift past without sinking into them.

Each time you avert your eyes, the shadow of your retreat ignites a fire within me.
The ache of your departure crystallizes into purpose, fueling my next demand: look
at me. Meet my stare. In that collision of glances, my world—and yours—will
stretch, tremble, and surge with color. look at me. I am no mere ornament; I am the
fulcrum, the pivot upon which this moment turns.

Each time you avert your eyes, the shadow of your retreat ignites a fire within me.
The ache of your departure crystallizes into purpose, fueling my next demand: look
at me. Meet my stare. In that collision of glances, my world—and yours—will
stretch, tremble, and surge with color. look at me. I am no mere ornament; I am the
fulcrum, the pivot upon which this moment turns.

See me. In this space, refusal does not exist. Should you dare to close your eyes,
you’ll plunge into a darkness more infinite than oblivion. My light and my shadow
will blaze within you, only to guide you back to the edge of your lids. look at me. Let
your vision fracture and refocus until my form is seared into your memory.

See me. In this space, refusal does not exist. Should you dare to close your eyes,
you’ll plunge into a darkness more infinite than oblivion. My light and my shadow
will blaze within you, only to guide you back to the edge of your lids. look at me. Let
your vision fracture and refocus until my form is seared into your memory.

I do not ask. I command: look at me. Then again—look at me—and again, until the
word becomes your echo. As long as I stand before you, your vision will find no
escape; it will be drawn, inexorably, to the heart of my being. Only by holding your
gaze can this world complete its story. So I call upon you, from the core of my
existence: look at me. Keep looking. And the instant you think you have looked
enough—to the brink of forgetting—look again.

I do not ask. I command: look at me. Then again—look at me—and again, until the
word becomes your echo. As long as I stand before you, your vision will find no
escape; it will be drawn, inexorably, to the heart of my being. Only by holding your
gaze can this world complete its story. So I call upon you, from the core of my
existence: look at me. Keep looking. And the instant you think you have looked
enough—to the brink of forgetting—look again.

For I cannot exist without your eyes. And so I summon you without end: look at me.
embrace the weight, the pain, the heat of that stare. Let it confirm, in unmistakable
terms, that I am here—and that you have truly seen me.

For I cannot exist without your eyes. And so I summon you without end: look at me.
embrace the weight, the pain, the heat of that stare. Let it confirm, in unmistakable
terms, that I am here—and that you have truly seen me.