I’m afraid of the light. It’s too bright for my eyes so I refuse to step into it. The darkness is much softer. Softer on the heart and softer on the soul. There is more clarity when I don’t know where I’m going. The dimness of the shadow that is me doesn’t mind bumping its shin on something it can’t see. My body is so accustomed to it that I no longer feel the pain. My senses can no longer tell the difference.
Even though I am blind my vision finds meaning in a life where there is no purpose. A lack of direction isn’t enough to prevent me from walking as fast as I can, to a place I’ve never seen.
Everyone else seems to paint the same picture, so it comforts me. I know that we are all lost, so amongst ourselves we can find something to cling on to; even though I refuse to admit that it has no value.
My dull perceptions have become more of a friend than an acquaintance. Keeping in touch is more like full on contact; feeling up each other in the dark and embracing the dark darkness that darkness provides.
A switch is all I need. Literally and metaphorically the same outcome would apply. An image would appear and give clarity to the false appearance of what I call life.
The light isn’t just at the end of the tunnel. It was there from the beginning, but the thought of death kept me waiting for a time that only I could truly decide. Life was and isn’t what it was meant to be. What I called destiny was an unlit candle, armless to find a match that would aid in showing the way. I am afraid of the light, but as a child I was afraid of the dark. Both times have come and gone, because in the distance, I see a spark.