The Shadows Of The Night

The Shadows Of The Night

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WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación mié, feb 8, 2023
I don't understand. How do people move on from the loss of someone they loved? The loss of a parent, a friend, a brother, or a sister. How can you just move on? Sometimes I wonder what it would be like. To move on. Would you forget them? Would you stop having nightmares? Would the moments you spent together cease to exist? The times when she taught you how to ride a bike. The times you would bake with each other and end up failing miserably. The times you would fight over homework. The times when you would wake in the night, crying and she would be there, tucking you back in and sit with you, stroking your hair until you drifted off once again into a deep slumber. The times where she taught you to be brave. Would they go? The memories. The pain? Because I've tried. But nothing makes it go. Yet, a part of me doesn't want it to leave because then what would I have left? I wouldn't remember the laughter or the happiness. Only sadness. I thought that was how it was going to be for the rest of my life, but I was wrong. So, very, wrong.
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Sometimes I wish I knew what it felt like to be someone else, anyone other than me, really. It's not that I dislike who I am(I do sometimes), or even that I'm lost. It's more like... I'm curious. Curious about the weight of other people's thoughts. The texture of their fears. The shape of their joy. None of us walk the same path, even if the streets overlap. None of us carry the same sky, even when we stand under the same stars. I often wonder, can eyes that have seen different corners of the world ever truly see the same world? Two people, standing side by side, might witness the same event. But they won't feel the same chill in the air. They won't flinch at the same memories. They won't hear the silence in the same way. So maybe we don't live in one world at all. Maybe we live in billions. Each one stitched together by memory, perception, pain, and hope. But maybe we can get close. Maybe, with enough honesty and enough patience, we can build bridges. Quiet little bridges made of words and glances and shared stillness. Maybe we can stretch ourselves across the gap. And maybe, just maybe, if you're willing to meet me there... I can show you what it's like to be me. So come. Walk a little with me. Let me try to emulate this strange maze of thoughts, this ever-shifting fog I call a mind. Let me turn myself inside out for you, just for a moment. The name's Blank. And I welcome you to the world through my eyes, my imaginary audience, watchful, patient, and perhaps just as lost as I am. Together, we might not find all the answers. But maybe, if we're lucky, we'll find the right questions.

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