I have one green eye, and one brown eye.

    I have one green eye and one brown eye. The green eye sees truth, but the brown eye sees much, much more. My green eye sees what is. It is never fooled by makeup, digital tricks, distracting hand-gestures, or an over-imaginative mind that wants to see monsters in bedroom shadows. It is useful to never be fooled by what you see, but sometimes I wish I could turn it off. I'll never be able to watch movies with green screens and have any idea of what was supposed to be inserted behind the characters; my eye will see the green screen, and any green-suited supporting cast members who were supposed to be invisible and non-existent in the final cut. Maybe you didn't know directors used things like that. I can't help seeing them. They are the truth behind the fantasy.

     I don't know if I can describe what my brown eye sees. It sees hidden things, unspoken things, things that are not, but want to be. It sees possibilities. It sees dreams. It sees aspirations. Most of the time I can't make sense of what it sees. Being telepathic would be useful; you could read someone's thoughts and hear him think, “I wish people would notice me. Maybe now that I've joined this acting class, things will change.” You'd hear that in your mind, and know that person's secret wish. But what if I looked at that person with my brown eye? I might see him standing up tall, smiling dashingly and taking a bow. I might (with my green eye) know that he is staring at the ground, shuffling past a group of people, hands dug deep into his pockets, but my brown eye might see him jumping up and down and waving his arms madly. I would have to figure out for myself that he wants to be noticed, or that one day he will become confident.

    The worst is when I glance at a person with my brown eye, and even though they are facing a different direction, the brown eye sees them staring, lancing me with their eyes. I don't know if they are thinking about me for some reason, or if I should stare into that spectral face and discern something within their eyes.

    And why should I bother? What business is it of mine what anyone else is going through? But I can't help what I see. And I can't help wanting to help them, either.

    That's what got me into this whole predicament in the first place.

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This exercise comes from Gail Carson Levine's book Writing Magic; she supplied the first two sentences, and I had to run with it for 20 minutes. ... Maybe it's sad that I only got that much written in that much time? XD