A Story About My Old Friend, Darkness

Light. It's such a wonderful sensation...it makes the darkness fade somehow, even though sometimes darkness feels so hopeless, so unbreakable. And then when the light inevitably fades, the darkness somehow seems darker and more daunting than it did before...like once you've seen the light there's no going back, no erasing that glorious memory. Eventually the darkness returns and you spend the rest of your time there blindly hoping for a glimpse of that joy you once felt, wasting your time wondering and waiting instead of trying to escape the darkness on your own.

She thought about this a lot. This metaphor she'd created in her mind seemed a clear way to view what she was going through. HIM. The light she found some days, and the darkness she experienced most others. Of course, at the beginning it had been all light, one so bright she could barely breathe or shake her gaze, one that drew her in like a mosquito to a lamppost, one she was sure was a glimpse of heaven. HE was the light. HE was the darkness. How could someone be both? She couldn't possibly understand.

The light that had drawn her in was like a siren...a beautiful song she couldn't un-hear, a delight to the eyes she couldn't un-see, soft skin she couldn't un-touch. How could she begin to un-feel all the things she felt? She knew she was trapped in darkness, waiting for a light that would probably never again appear...she knew but she couldn't act. She was bound in shackles of lust or love, of which unsure. The unforgiving chair that bound her was facing the wall, but she could feel the sunlight through the window some days...see the shadows of the people they used to be. Others she heard the rain outside and felt the water as though it was seeping through and drowning her very soul.

Perfection is a funny thing. It doesn't exist. It's something we imagine and create because we yearn to believe it can be. She saw HIS light, and she believed in HIS perfection. Blue eyes, pink lips, yellow hair, red cheeks, golden smiles. HE could never let her down...and even when HE did, she didn't believe it. She made excuses, blamed herself, loved HIM unconditionally, knew HIS thoughts and fears and failures, but believed they were all perfection, all perfect parts of a perfect light that saved her imperfect life. But she wasn't HIS light. She was HIS distraction, HIS second-best, HIS match that mesmerized for a few seconds before HE blew it out. HE doused HIS fire and stopped showing her light, plunging her into a darkness she couldn't comprehend. She couldn't breathe. But she still loved HIM all the same, never giving up on a hope she knew was foolish.

The scary thing was that she knew every bit of herself and she knew every bit of HIM, and she knew she would remain in this dark cell forever, waiting to gaze upon the shadows playing on the wall and the rainbows dancing just out of reach. She couldn't even force herself to want to escape. Isn't it better to see that mesmerizing light for one enlightening day and endure the darkness the rest? She didn't know. But she would never know, because she'd never know the world outside her cell.

Light. It's such a wonderful sensation...it makes the darkness fade somehow, though sometimes darkness feels so hopeless, so unbreakable. And her darkness was impenetrable. She greeted every day's darkness as an old friend, knowing it would always be second-best to the light she'd seen before, but settling for its embrace nevertheless.

And I hope you kept reading til the end, because the saddest part about this story is that it's not a story. HE is you, and she is me. You're my light and my darkness. The light is beautiful, but the darkness oppressing me became my only friend and it could never replace you. When you read this I'll be dead, and maybe this is a drawn-out and dramatic suicide note, but that's okay because I needed you to know. I always focused on your light. And I forgive you for taking me into the darkness.