We all want to be watched…until we tip over the moto.


I have come to the not-so-radical conclusion that we all want to be watched, that is until we do something stupid and then we wish nobody was watching. I want everyone to have on “april is the shit” glasses so they only see me doing amazing things I do. Because those glasses would have a really really heavy filter that would prevent you from seeing the parts of me that are less than pretty. But in all honesty I still wish somebody was watching.

Watching as I kicked butt teaching my class for three hours without a translator they day they forgot to send one in. Watching as I strutted my stuff in my new skirts I brought back from America that do not make me look like a grandma or an out of touch foreigner (lets face it they were never in style). Watching as I made that quick stop that prevented an accident with a big truck without killing my moto in the middle of traffic.

We all want to be watched.

Watched as we walk down the street in our new pair of jeans as people admire them (and our tight butt) in envy. Watched as we preform, write, teach, give selflessly, love earnestly and tell a great joke. We want to be watched, admired and envied. We want something people could envy us for.

We want to be watched by the guy who didn’t ask us to the dance though he knew we had a crush on them. Watched by the one who we will never have. Watched by the one who told us they loved us before they left us brokenhearted as we replayed Sixteen Candles alone for the dozenth time.

We want to be watched by our parents as we were children scared of monsters under our bed. Watched over by our grandparents who passed away late enough in our youth for us to be hurt by their absence. Watched by our coach and the school as we made that great play at that crucial moment. Watched by our mentors as we walk across the stage with some sort of recognition for a job well done.

And we are all secretly hoping we are watched over by a God. Some God. It is a desire in us that cannot be shaken. We want some cosmic being of great importance to deem us of great importance as well. Enough to glance our way every once in a while and at least have a tinge of emotion when we are going through amazing suffering. Some say it is many gods. Some won’t even claim to desire a god at all. But I think, in the dead of night they, like me, want God to be watching.

And it is at these moment of pure earnest desire to feel loved that we feel the most alone usually. Whether it be we have pushed everyone away, or we refuse to accept the love that they have been trying to give. But we turn around hoping, and praying, that someone has been watching. Because it is not just at the moments worthy of joyous celebration that we want someone to deem us worthy of being watched, but more honestly, at the moments of self-defeating thoughts and onset of gaping wounds.

And it is at these moments that I have to listen to the voice whispering to my soul,

I do care enough, I am big enough and you, My Girl, are important enough for me to watch over. 

So everybody walks around hoping everyone is watching us, deeming us worthy when it is actually the desire for that Big Guy in the Sky that our soul is seeking approval from. And knowing that allows me somewhere deep inside to understand that when the strong winds of self doubt blow and I look around and nobody is seemingly there to tell me I am worthy of being watched, that Big Guns is watching with thick “april is the shit” glasses because he sees me through the lenses of Jesus, and that man really is the shit.



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