Taijitu

Hello, everyone! I’m back from hell, if only for a while .

This one’s a bit dark and I’m not too fond of it but I guess it does deserve some blog space.

I’m really surprised by how much people you call ‘friends’ can hide so much behind their everyday faces.

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In shadowed moonlight she dreams of an innocence that was never hers.

Through the falls and cuts and bruises she learns that white was not the color of purity. Oftentimes, it is too bright and leaves dark spots which cloud the truth.

The truth is

White blinded

White blinds as much as dark does but at least the dark does not hurt her eyes. In the dark, her monsters exist, albeit in shadowed detail, but she could pretend that they were only the wind whispering to her traitorously throughout her nightmares. But light blinds and brings out for scrutiny the tiniest detail until she realizes that what she thought was white was never really pure-

The halo does not fit.

She realizes that innocence past the hallowed trials of adolescence was not really innocence but, rather, naivety, or worse. White could well be a cover for one’s darkness. Where the light shines brightest, that is where the darkest shadow lies. After all, the darkest point in a room is always the point right behind the light.

She learns her own brand of self-flagellation, bringing out the thoughts that plague her night-time wanderings, turning them over and over and out in her hands until they bled. She thinks her life to be hers when in truth she slaves over her embittered pride, the hubris born of years of always being second, always the next-best, always Her and never her and never ever-

What of purity?

What of innocence?

Later, much later in a life she has learned to regret, she learns to never trust she who only told white lies.

 

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Tags: purity and all pretentious shit, white lies