The dark spaces where nothing but negative oozes out. I trace my hands across the cold walls, bumpy and rigid, noting the terrible paint job the apartment management has done during renovation.
As, I reach towards the end of the hallway, I also hear my parents bickering, in this dark I try to make my way towards the exit of our “home”. I often wonder to myself,
“How can anyone be expected to see in this place? It is so dark, like a grave.”
But I suppose, parts of us had died here. I often, felt it was love that had died.
Yet, I knew love still lived within me, because I never gave up, I always held on.
I continued to step outside, and it always seemed bright being blinded by the sun's rays.
It only seemed bright because I was accustomed to being in such dark living spaces.
My eyes were simply adjusting, as if I were living in a dark tower my whole life.
And, maybe I was, and I hadn't known it.
I try to look away from the direction of the sunlight,
To protect my face, my eyes.
I let the warmth of the sun, settle on my back.
It is relaxing, I could feel it work its way on my tense muscles.
The tense muscles of which I always tighten, as if I am bracing
for something to happen. All of which, I do not have to.
I suppose this is just the bodies way of coping, preparing
for the worse to come. I just needed to know more kindness,
to myself. To myself indeed.
I often wonder what would it take to feel normal?
But then again what is normal?