The Darkness
I write because I can write. It is the only comfort I have left in this world. I’m trapped. Trapped in this cage we call life. In a place of minimal comfort and maximum stupidity. The light shines dimly through a hole I can’t reach. Farther and farther it shines. So far its but a twinkle in the night sky. As I walk to this twinkle many things pass. The cage walls seam repetitive and mind numbing. Each bar like the other except for small variations from the errors of mass production. Soon the copied bars are square and soon triangles and soon 2 dimensional slabs of metal. I try to bend the bars but they are to close and well woven into the structure that I can bend one possible two but then just hit others and still the slots are to small to fit through. The light dims more and more as I take steps. Dare I go backwards? Would the light get bigger? Would the bars become round again? Buts its dark back there, and what if the light continues to move away where would it go, where would I go. If there is no light do I truly exist? If I’m not seen, am I truly there? I cannot risk going back I must reach the light. The light is all I have now. My eyes transfixed on the light, almost as if fussed to it. It’s not long, at least not long in the sense of how long it truly was, before the light vanishes and I’m left in the dark. Nothing but cold microscopic metal threads that retain me from going anywhere. Just the darkness and me. Do I exist? Does anything exist in this dark? Why do I ask such simples question, why not where am I? How am I? Who am I? No. Why am I, that is the only question on my mind, why am I? It’s so cold here. The darkness surrounds me like a blanket but no warmth is to be found. Only me and the darkness. The darkness and the why.
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