A Shadow in the Light

It is the ungodly hour of 11am.  The air is frigid outside, but the sun is shining so brightly reflecting off of the snowbanks and the ice.  I could barely open my eyes.  The sun does something to my senses, or perhaps it’s the lack of sleep. Either way,  I can’t remember the last time I was up and outside, in public during this time of day.

The sensation makes my eyes sting, I feel my eyelids pucker in disbelief. I hear phantom clanks and clangs in my ears, like a child banging on pots and pans with a big wooden spoon, while cheap metal wind chimes do a obnoxious blusterous dance..traffic jam..angry men, threatening violence over money, some big truck or bus must be driving in reverse..BEEP BEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEEEEEP.

The bright light leaves me temporarily mindless, heartless, and soulless.  All the depth of my being abandoned this body as soon as that heavy wooden door creaked open, letting the great white purge in.

At this point time speeds and bends and warps.  Flashes and voices surge through me at levesls and volumes that I can not begin to process. I am in the heart of a raging storm. I push beyond maxium sensory overload…

And my time in the light is done.

Using what is left of my instinct, I find myself traveling back, in a very automatic kind of way. I just follow the path back home, back to the dark, away from all of the light and sounds and cold.  As I re-enter my apartment I feel a weight drop off my shoulders.  If I didn’t know any better I would swear a hundred pound sandbag had literally just dropped off of my shoulders.  The weight feels that real. My eyes once puckered and blind now turn into a more drowsy, loose, heavy feeling.  It’s almost like the feeling you get when you first slip into a warm bath. My vision is black and spotted but my eyes feel so good I don’t care that I can’t see. I would rather not see anything but black at this moment. The subtle tick of the clock in the kitchen is all my ears hear.  It is so soothing, it sounds like feathers falling gently on a pillow to me. A comforting lullaby.

As my senses return to their natural state, it is then that I feel the toll that has been taken. I don’t feel like going into anymore detail, but I will say that I do not belong here.  Not in that kind of daylight, not with those kinds of people. That is not my world. I don’t know where I belong but I know without a doubt that it is not here.  I wonder if they even see me. I walk like them, talk like them, act like them. I know I can play the part for short periods of time, but do any of them realize who or what I really am?

I guess the real question is, do they even care?
No. I don’t think that they do.

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