Close your eyes.
Breathe.
Take a step. Another one. But I can't see, you say and your voice sounds insecure. Fragile, even. You always clung to sight the way you cling to rules, to structure in your life. Don't run, don't scream. Don't do anything stupid. Disarray leads to chaos, chaos leads to anarchy. At least, that's what you tell yourself. Your first step is slow, careful, like the ground will snatch your foot between its teeth and swallow it up as a whole. There is a stumble because you hesitate, a faint shriek escaping your lips as you crash, cascading to the ground so slowly it is almost graceful. Almost, but not quite.
Again.
For a while you refuse, burnt by your first attempt to function in the omnipresent darkness, by your failure. What did I do to deserve this? You cry out, blank eyes filling with tears. Nothing. There is nothing you did, and life is simply unfair. The truth is harsh and painful, not something you are willing to accept. When it's morning you'll wake up, and the sun light will greet you. They are lies and you know it, but it helps you reasoning not accepting help. Tomorrow you won't need to learn. Tomorrow everything will be normal again, just like everything is supposed to be.
Listen.
Your skin pulsates as crimson blood drips from your fingertips onto the floor. It is not something you noticed as you scraped them past the rough bark of an old tree, but you can hear it now. A soft, steady drum that gradually gets louder. It opens up your mind, and suddenly you can hear it all. Cars rushing past the street, the clicking of heels on the pavement as they get closer, breathing. Your own. Someone else's. The world does not quite take a form yet, but it ignites you with a sense of hope, like you found a life boat on a sinking ship. It is far from perfect, and you have a long way to go. But it's a promise. It's a beginning.
Feel.
Soft skin, chest heaving and falling along the steady rhythm of breathing. A shiver underneath your fingers, delicate and subtle, but you notice. You notice almost anything now. As you explore, you orientate. Discovering it all, all over again, but this time it is not terrifying. There is a sense of familiarity as your hands weave through short hair, take in the strong, fresh smell of Serpentine by Comme de Garçon. The outlines of a face you have stared at so many times that even now you can still imagine what it looks like, the contours of lips as they form into a smile, eyes that can penetrate your soul even when you can't see them. Silence falls, the only sounds left are the creaking of bed springs, wet lips that soppily clash against each other. Breathing, a warm body against your own as you drift off.
Sleep.
And when you wake up, everything will be fine. Your eyes flutter open and the world is whole. New, filled in differently, but complete. When you open your eyes you can feel the sun as it warms up your skin, hear the sounds that paint a technicolour image inside your mind. There is neon, luminescence filled in by smells that paint a picture so clear it is almost like a photograph inside your head. It is vivid and clear and when you get up again, you walk without error. A laugh spills over your lips before you can stop it.
You can see.
Breathe.
Take a step. Another one. But I can't see, you say and your voice sounds insecure. Fragile, even. You always clung to sight the way you cling to rules, to structure in your life. Don't run, don't scream. Don't do anything stupid. Disarray leads to chaos, chaos leads to anarchy. At least, that's what you tell yourself. Your first step is slow, careful, like the ground will snatch your foot between its teeth and swallow it up as a whole. There is a stumble because you hesitate, a faint shriek escaping your lips as you crash, cascading to the ground so slowly it is almost graceful. Almost, but not quite.
Again.
For a while you refuse, burnt by your first attempt to function in the omnipresent darkness, by your failure. What did I do to deserve this? You cry out, blank eyes filling with tears. Nothing. There is nothing you did, and life is simply unfair. The truth is harsh and painful, not something you are willing to accept. When it's morning you'll wake up, and the sun light will greet you. They are lies and you know it, but it helps you reasoning not accepting help. Tomorrow you won't need to learn. Tomorrow everything will be normal again, just like everything is supposed to be.
Listen.
Your skin pulsates as crimson blood drips from your fingertips onto the floor. It is not something you noticed as you scraped them past the rough bark of an old tree, but you can hear it now. A soft, steady drum that gradually gets louder. It opens up your mind, and suddenly you can hear it all. Cars rushing past the street, the clicking of heels on the pavement as they get closer, breathing. Your own. Someone else's. The world does not quite take a form yet, but it ignites you with a sense of hope, like you found a life boat on a sinking ship. It is far from perfect, and you have a long way to go. But it's a promise. It's a beginning.
Feel.
Soft skin, chest heaving and falling along the steady rhythm of breathing. A shiver underneath your fingers, delicate and subtle, but you notice. You notice almost anything now. As you explore, you orientate. Discovering it all, all over again, but this time it is not terrifying. There is a sense of familiarity as your hands weave through short hair, take in the strong, fresh smell of Serpentine by Comme de Garçon. The outlines of a face you have stared at so many times that even now you can still imagine what it looks like, the contours of lips as they form into a smile, eyes that can penetrate your soul even when you can't see them. Silence falls, the only sounds left are the creaking of bed springs, wet lips that soppily clash against each other. Breathing, a warm body against your own as you drift off.
Sleep.
And when you wake up, everything will be fine. Your eyes flutter open and the world is whole. New, filled in differently, but complete. When you open your eyes you can feel the sun as it warms up your skin, hear the sounds that paint a technicolour image inside your mind. There is neon, luminescence filled in by smells that paint a picture so clear it is almost like a photograph inside your head. It is vivid and clear and when you get up again, you walk without error. A laugh spills over your lips before you can stop it.
You can see.