I close my eyes for the same reason that you open yours: to see. To see a place that cannot be seen, to hear a language that cannot be heard, and to feel a sensation that cannot be felt. All too often we see the world through promises or, rather, broken promises. These promises fill our vision from left to right. They are sold to us as the good, the successes, and the attainable. But why do we still have faith in the good when we are always made out to be the bad?
We are the ones left behind; in other words, when I close my eyes I do not see a promise here and a promise there; I see no loading signs, only free hard-drive space. I much prefer to be a sinner than a saint; at least the sinner sees an open space and not promises of tomorrow.
We see tomorrow’s promise in many forms told to us by purported saints, mainly that of pleasures sold as sensory candy that feed our appetites not with dinner but with ice water—and promises of dinner. Close your eyes and hear the language of kept promises—that is, no promises at all. Your faith did not need to be tested, as your participation in the game was not met; you did not need to lose in order to be promised that you will one day win.
“Survival of the fittest” is perhaps one of the most influential phrases uttered in the last century and a half, but if all the fittest—the winners—have succeeded over the bad—us—then why can we still open our eyes? Why do the fit stand to exercise off of their promises to us, and why do the saints need to forgive our sins? To be told—to be promised—something is not the same as to be something—to have it.
Closing your eyes doesn’t guarantee a win or a sensation that is neither an appetizer or candy for dessert; it is a meal for participation. The saints have no problem giving food to those who play their game, to those who suffer for them so that they may buy the promise, to take it off their hands before it leaves them stranded on the side of the road, because, after all, the fit don’t get stranded; instead, it is the wide-eyed who never finish.
No one wakes up after cashing in their promises to say, “I’ve made it, my promise has been fulfilled, I have finally won.” Instead, they wish to finally close their eyes and no longer play this game of broken promises—but by then it is too late.