Darkness is Clearer than Light

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Your life is your own, someone once told me
“Is it?” I asked myself
The idea of possession haunts me
As evidence to my thoughts
Read the series of events that follow

My life was handed to me by my mum
Then played around with by some cruel fools
Then beaten down by a few others
Then brought back up and nurtured by the good ones

But throughout my ups and downs I never really felt like it belonged to me
It belonged to my bullies, my parents, my sister, my friends
My advisors, my guiders, my haters, my critics
These people are to receive credit, and for what you may ask?
My life.

So, to answer my question, no. My life isn’t my own
And I’m scared it may never be

But maybe it’s like this for everyone
Maybe I’m overreacting
Maybe it doesn’t need to feel so different, so foreign
But still, these thoughts plague my being
The nights are restless and my mind is obscured by one thought:
“What if this happens to only me?”
So many questions. Always the questions.

I question my existence. I question my purpose. I question my life.
People my age don’t question, as a result, I always find myself overreacting.
People my age, as my friends told me in a well-meaning spirit
“Want to live in bliss and oblivion.”
I couldn’t agree with them more
I couldn’t wait for the day when I could live like them
I wanted to live, more than they could ever know
But from the minute I turned four

I was never a child, I was a questioner
I was never a child, I was a light
I was never a child, I was a writer

At least I found my calling early
At least I have something to drive me a little further
At least I can say that my childhood was not entirely bad
When I found words and sounds I realized -
I had my moments of bliss, I had my moments of innocence

Maybe when I look back I only see the darkness
If I could only see the light a little more clearly
The darkness would be blurry
But to me, the darkness will always be clearer than light

One day I will see the light
And I will understand
One day. One day. One day.
I know I may never find the answers to my questions
But maybe one day, I will learn to live with the questions
Just as I have learnt to live with everything else

At least my thoughts are my own
That, that is the only thing those people don’t have credit for
My thoughts have always been MY OWN
It feels good, I feel greedy, like a two-year-old unwilling to let go of a toy
But I am. I am a two-year-old, this is not my toy, this is the bane of my existence
This is the reason, I’m not a zombie
I’m a puppet, slowly nibbling at its strings

I’m learning to fight back, I’m learning to use my questioning to fight back
It all adds up, I’m a questioner, not a fighter.
But my questioning can be used to fight back
That is how I survive. Maybe not as well as others, but I do.
I think that’s what matters
 






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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

HippieDash said...
Aug. 26 at 4:32 am
The trademark of adventures is life itself. Thank you, for your counsel my friend. I'm afraid I may never stop questioning. I will learn to stop doubting.
 
Iamtherevelation said...
Aug. 25 at 8:00 am
You are you, my friend. Nobody else's life is ever going to be half as wonderful as yours. As for questioning when others don't do it, well, isn't that the mark of the best of the inventors and the trademark of adventurers?
 
HippieDash replied...
Aug. 26 at 4:33 am
The trademark of adventures is life itself. Thank you, for your counsel my friend. I'm afraid I may never stop questioning. I will learn to stop doubting.
 
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