Monday, 22 October 2012
I want to screech. Shout out loud so that somebody notices the anguish, if not the screams at all? That pungent feeling when you wish to abscond and run. But then after running a mile away from everything around you, you realize you're just about running the same place. Because there's no where else to go. Every turn you take, draws you to similar facets with different knowledge of screwing you over and over. You think, wait and wish for the same light you found once before. The same light which lit you when yours ran out. I do see a light. Yes. It's not standing with others surrounding me. It came from above somewhere. I try going close, it keeps running away. Maybe it's scared that if once again he illuminates me, he'll never find his own again. But I assure him that's not what I want. I'm happy enough to see him lit, to see him having found his light again. He argues; he says he's here to share the light. There's a problem. We can't share. He's unable to give some to me. He forces it, even. But then, I guess I was lacking emollient, and I could never light up again. I try sending him away. I tell him, he'll find someone to share his light with. He insists on staying; he urges he'll light the path for me if he's lit at least. But I convince him otherwise. I see him going. Amalgamating into the crowd, but still so clear. Still so different. He's gone. Again. But I guess he's better off without me. Without having to share his light. Here I'm again, surrounded by the colours. The colours I don't need. Because my white light, my white knight has left. And I'll be better off in darkness, till the sun emerges. For now.