I have lost my eyes.

And with them, light. It ran off, and to this day, it still hasn't come back.
Along with it are the faces I have seen, the faces that I have met; the faces of people I have cared about. Every day the cracks in their skin grow, taking its time to shatter into the eerie nothingness, dwindle into the silent oblivion.

They fade.
Like the castles of sand at the beach, like the million of stars at dawn.

I have lost my eyes.
I have forgotten how it felt to see. I have embraced the darkness, and it accepted me too. It made me feel home. I substituted it for light, it gave me false warmth. But I didn't complain. I couldn't complain.

It was... intoxicating. Addicting to say perhaps. But the warmth turned to heat, and then it started to burn. It scalded my soul.

And then all at once, the fire died off. The immense heat stopped, and I was left with darkness, with its cold, long arms and dark, unseen eyes. Darkness deceived me, and I wanted more.

I have lost my eyes.
I am not blind— I just can't see my self seeing again. And for that,
I have lost everything.