I am not an entirely honest human. Not a great starting statement, I know. I’ll take it back.
I’ll pick up this eraser and the words with disappear. There won’t be any more like them, ever. You won’t see anything written just like that, I promise. They’ll be gone. Here goes…
There. All gone. Let’s start over.
I’ll start again.
Skritch.
I’m not a completely dishonest human.
Don’t like it? Well, I won’t take it back. And the words are back.
Not the exactly same words, not written the same way. Those words are gone, right? But they’re still there. And I am not an entirely dishonest person.
Feel like you can trust me? You should. After all, I’m not entirely dishonest, right? Sure, I’m a little untrustworthy, but who isn’t? Anyways, the only reason you’re reading this is because you trust me to some extent, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t listen to me.
So here goes nothing:
I am in the darkness. It’s all around me, enveloping me in his cool, paralyzing endlessness. I am in the darkness, and I can see the things which are in the darkness, fragments of things which are light, stark against the black plains. Object and such. More often, I stumble into the things which are in the darkness and of the darkness.
Black things, hidden by the black that surrounds them, unseen until felt. I am not like them. I am like a shard of light. Unlike the others, I am a living shard, and can eat some of them. Some of the round ones are sweet. They taste like white.
I see myself in my mind’s eye. I know I am white, a blaring contrast to the land I live upon. I know that I live in the black, the dark, the lifeless. And there I am. My clothing is worn, but soft, and has no contrast to my skin. On some days, I wear the darkness because it is nicer. It is warmer, I think. Safer.
But I like the white, too. I sometimes see it. The sun. Far above. I know that if I reach for it, I can go to it. To the land of white. Where all that I will see of my dark home is the black moon. But here, I am white. I am seen. I am different.
If I go to the other land, I will become dark. I will be black. There is no other way.
But I want to go. I want to leave these endless, foreboding plains and go to where all  is white. Where there is light that is not me or the objects around. Where the world is white.
~:~
I am here. And what a terrible thing it is! Ah, alone I am. It is the same as ever before. But no, I am white against light. No contrast is there anymore. I am like all else, with no definite line. I cannot go back, my decision to come here has ensured that my only connection to my home in the dark is the moon above me.
And so now, there is only one thing before I fade into the ground, the sky, the light. I will become a shard of the dark. An entirely foreign being to this strange land. I have no choice. I’ll just close my eyes and fade into the black.
I am a shadow now.
~:~
There. A Story.
Still trust me. Believe what I’m telling you?
You have the rights to choose what you believe. But I am not an entirely dishonest human. I am not honest. I never will be. But that doesn’t matter to you.
I don’t care whether or not this story affects your life, and I don’t care that you may not like it. I don’t care about you. I don’t know who you are, you are giving me nothing that requires me knowing who you are.
I, on the other hand, am offering you information. And you are the only one who can choose to trust me.
Believe me, you are.