Scribbles on a Napkin

Afraid of the Dark

After you've seen what I've seen, you learn that fear is nothing but a means to an end. That you are in control.

I've seen dragons that breathe fire, that have wings that block out the sky, that have scales the color of the rainbow, that have fangs the size of my arm that could tear me to shreds.

Yet I do not fear.

I've stared death straight in the eye, waltzed the cold dance with her, flirted with her in all of her toxic beauty. I've come close to joining her, to sing the song that she sings beside her, to live with her for the rest of time.

Yet I do not fear.

I've seen love so strong that it drives people to do marvelous things. Not the kind of love that you see just anywhere, but the kind that makes the impossible possible - the kind that makes the unclimbable mountain suddenly seem as insignificant as an anthill that you can get over in a single bound. Love so strong that it drives people mad.

Yet I do not fear.

I've seen the shadow of myself on the walls, always right behind me. Tracing my footsteps, skewing the world at odd angles, interacting and dancing and laughing as I do, and crying and cursing and drinking when I do to.

I've seen my shadow no matter where I go - no matter how far I travel, it will never go away, for it is part of who I am, part of my personality. It will go away, but never for long - it is not something that can be killed, that can be persuaded, seduced, abducted, hurt, destroyed, saved, or loved.

Yet I do fear.

Because if a shadow is part of me and is all of those things that I myself am, then how is it that I am not part of the shadow? How am I not part of the thing that people simply ignore, that they can walk on without realizing? Something that is only there, nothing more.

My shadow is my friend that never goes away.

I am the shadow's partner no matter how hard I try not to be. Him and I are two of a kind - something people see and dismiss without blinking an eye.