I wrote this long ago, and it made some sense at the time, but now it’s just a vague piece about I don’t quite understand myself either. If it makes sense to you, good for you.
Everyone is scared of the dark. But darkness comes to mean different things to different people. Sometimes darkness takes different forms in the life of the same individual. Be it the fear induced by the absence of light, or the black cat that stares at you while you’re trying to sleep, or the failure that defeats you, perhaps mere experiences that are timed wrongly. Or that the timing was right but you were unaware. Retrospectively, some experiences seem to be blurry images buried in our psyche, perceived and experienced long before they are ready to be understood, rendering a dark shade to them, by the mere fact of them being incomprehensible. Sometimes you are to dig them out from the depths of your memory that you once tried to hard to hide or just lost them all along the way, only to realize that you are now left with interpretations that reek of uncertainty. What happened then seems to be more valuable than it’s worth, perhaps only because you didn’t know what it meant. And when you begin to become aware of its absence, you find a space left unoccupied by a more suitable replacement.
And when you stumble upon a replacement, you expect yourself to take off from where you left off. Unfortunately, the passage of time took along with it memories that seemed so insignificant, perhaps even wrong or meaningless. It is unfortunate because memories made sense in a nonsensical way, thereby fitting perfectly well in the moulds of my innocence. Today I look back and the canvas that once seemed so colourful seems to be painted over by splashes of darkness. As I write this, I begin to uncover the life I once deeply desired before I changed my paths. What I am not sure is whether I am actually on a road less traveled or merely lost my way...