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No matter how long I sit in the dark, I never get used to it. I know the rooms like the back of my hand as material things pile up and gain layers of dust in all corners. Now, my shoulders cave inwards, the muscles of my limbs remain tense and I breathe the empty air, only to live restlessly in acceptance of the dark. It's been longer than I can wrap my mind around since there was actually sustainable light in my metaphorical house. The power has been cut for longer than my mind lets me remember. I worked around the useless light switches with temporary fixes, things that would cast away shadows into the background and would tint the windows to show I was in uniform with the street. Candles, if you will. I would pick, find and borrow the candles from different people, places and projects. They gave me a sense of normality and allowed me to think I was doing a lot better than I was all because of this brightness I held in my hands. When the last of the candles burnt out however, the dark was inescapable. It wasn't till then I realised how long the power in my house had been out, how reliant I was on these short-term lights and how dangerous the dark gets. People that walk by my house now cross the street, their gaze avoids it as they give me and my house, space. That's the thing about the dark though, your stare is tricked into seeing that surrounding you is nothing but an undeniable space.
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Night falls, and the street paths are brightened pane by pane with the lights of the houses, which row by row are switched on to stretch out the day. Every light-filled window is practically proof of the purpose-led life and endless energy of the people in it. In this one house though, the light always looked dimmer, reflections from the glass were only a slight gleam. Now the lights are all out though the person lives there still. Looking in to the space it doesn't make any sense, to sit in the dark instead of simply flipping a switch. The concept is not at all complex, every other house wouldn't complain. She's choosing to be miserable and alone in that gloomy house. Choosing to be sad. Choosing to be stuck in the dark.
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This is scarily beautiful
ReplyThank you. Just trying to empty things I guess, hope it makes sense.
ReplyLots of sense, if this method works use it!
ReplyEscape the house or perhaps its a metaphor like mansion
Reply