There is a space inside of me that is constantly trying to fill up and empty out all at once.
It is one of the first things I can remember. That gnawing feeling.
I used to be afraid of it. Anxious and unraveling, chasing after the strings that I thought were holding me together instead of tying me down. So desperate to turn sparks into flames that could light the darkness all around me.
There was such a hollow space. A void I thought would swallow me up.
Always reaching, and in my panic not always able to feel what was reaching back.
I don't mean this in a benevolent sort of way.
I don't mean that universe is reaching out to provide comfort.
I mean she is reaching with answers, and it has taken a long time to hear her out.
The world as we know it is designed to keep us safe and occupied.
But that is not the same being whole.
The world is split in two. And we are split in two.
And we get just enough light to keep us from bumping into things.
Prometheus may have brought us fire, but it is not the old Gods who control its light.
Who is responsible for the rationing? Who decided that we only needed to see a fraction of what we are? Of what we could be?
Just enough light to reach the corners of the room. Not enough to burn down the facade.
It may be time to venture out, like Prometheus did. To cast the shadows back.
To stir the memories. To peer deep enough into the darkness that we can finally see it looking back.
© Elizabeth McLaughlin