The light is dying. I can see it dimming, even now. All around me, the shadows are gaining strength. It's as if they know that the light is dying, and they are growing more by the minute. I feel like I'm painted into the corner of this tiny room. This tiny room where I once found safety, and solace. It's the only light left. And once it's gone, that's it.
I can remember when I first came in here, and the light was so bright. It was like a life boat, cast into a sea of forgotten tears. It was home. It was my home. And now, as the light slowly dissipates, I'm left wondering, "what next?" I'm left to wonder where I go from here. Is there anywhere to go, in this cold, and darkened world? Am I all alone?
When I was younger, there was so much light. It was all around me. It seemed like light was everywhere. It seemed like the entire world was lit up by some celestial body, and warmed by its magnificent rays. But that was then. This is now. And now is this tiny room, with a light that is slowly dying. Flickering in and out of a meaningless existence.
Where does the light go when it dies? What does it move on to? How does it feel when it finally succumbs to the darkness, and has to return to a time before its own existence? Does it even think, or feel? Does the light know that it's the only thing holding back a crippling darkness? Does the light lie?
I think that it does. I think that the light always lies. I think that the light tricks our eyes into believing that things that are there, really are not. And when the light finally blinks out, I think that the things that it was hiding are finally released upon a unprepared world. A world where only the light stands between safety, and uncertain doom. When the light dies, maybe in some strange way, we all do.
I can almost feel the shadows laughing at me now. They know that their time soon must come. They know that even though there will be no light, it will be their time to shine. It will be their time to come out of the light, and thrive within the darkness. The shadows will finally win. The shadows will wash over all that was once new, and end the brightness of new promises. They will end the brightness of new life. The will end hope.
As I write this, the light grows ever weaker. I know what needs to be done, but I'm not ready to do it. Not yet. I'm going to wait for the light to fully extinguish, and then I'll do what must be done. But I don't want to. I know that it will hurt. But I know that it has to be done. Oh God, I know. And I think that maybe the anticipation is what hurts the most. Not the actual pain that I will soon go through, but the anticipation. I've heard that, in the end, the actual pain is not so bad.
It's flickering even more now. It won't be long. I have so many things that must be done before I enter sleep. So many things that I need to say. So many memories that need to be written. But I fear that there will not be enough time. There is never enough time.
They say that time is the fire in which we burn. You don't know just how true that is until you are confronted with time running out. The final grains in an hour glass slowly slipping away. The final ticks of a clock that was timed so perfectly. So many moments, so many experiences, all slipping away. And when they're gone, they're gone. Even the memories will fade with time. We all fall victim to time. We all fall victim to the darkness.
I've lived quite a long time. Or so it seems sometimes. A change of seasons. A change of time. A change of life. And with each passing breath, I know that I am on the verge of my last. Somewhere up ahead, that last breath is waiting to be drawn. That last breath is waiting to be released. That last bit of life is waiting to blink out of me. And there is no stopping it. I've spent my whole life trying to hold it at bay, but the end will come. Just as the end of the light shall come, so must the end of my life. We can't stop time.
Few people want to live forever. It seems like eternal life would be such a burden. Oh sure, there are those that believe in eternal life, through which ever deity their hearts pray to. Some believe that once the light goes out, we cross over to a life filled with life, love, and the promise of a new day. But I believe that the only promise we have is right now. And when right now becomes then, we must pass on. Our thoughts, our memories, our very light is extinguished.
As I typed that last line, the light ceased to exist. It became no more. As once it shone with the brightness of a better future, it now shows only the dim memory of light. I am left only with the weak glow of this slowly dying laptop. It's light so weak. It's battery life so weak. So soon, it too will die. And so, I say my good-night.
It is time. Time for the pain. I know that it will be brief, but it will burn. I know that it will burn. If only for a moment, it will burn. But I know that it is time to do what I've always known must be done. I will rise from this chair, sitting cozy within the alcove of my desk, and I will complete the task that I know in my heart must be completed. It's time to let the shadows have their moment.
I guess I will leave now. And soon, there will be pain. That is as it should be. That's the way that it has always been. When I came into this room, I was at least an hour younger. I am older now. The darkness is new. The darkness will live until I finish my task.
It is time. I will now cross to the middle of my room, and I will change the lightbulb. And once new light fills my room, I will finish my work, and get some sleep. I have an early morning tomorrow. The work day waits for no one. I must remember to charge my laptop. I need it tomorrow. It is important. Everything always seems so damned important.
And so, for now, I will say my last good-bye.
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