At one point in my college years, I went through something of a crisis.
I was, to avoid the clinical terms or personal presumptions, depressed.
Now, like any happy depressive; 'happy depressive' here not being an oxymoron, I was contented in my state;
only too happy from time to time, to coo as I embroiled myself in my own self-induced misery like some blanket.
In fact, I may have developed something of a gift, being able to suck the very light out a room of happy people;
and I relished 'entertaining' guests with this my party trick whenever I deemed the sweetness of my environs carping.
But I think on it now, and I realize 'sucking out the light' may not be the right expression.
Light, in this context is after all, based on idealized notions of hope and savoring assumed beauties of life.
These things aren't swept away by negativity, not really - Just hidden, for a time.
And since we aren't talking Physics, the property of light being unobstructed by darkness doesn't exist here.
In the realm of emotions, darkness can, and often does, obstruct light.
(For all would-be hippies and children of Happiness, you may want to pull out a steady notebook and a pen at this point)
So what my 'gift' was really about, as far as literary imagery goes, is in sucking out the darkness and replacing it with The Void.
A more sustained pitch where happy thoughts don't just get hidden, but are entirely consumed;
kicking, screaming and clawing without hope of being conjured up again...
Oh right -- Sorry. There is no moral to this story or cheery conclusion.
'Just felt like taking you on a journey into the more twisted recesses of my mind.
What are you doing up at midnight after all? MY excuse is Coca-Cola -- and Sherlock binge-watching.
Go on then. Off you pop.
No comments:
Post a Comment