Written by Nishi Nandineni
I think I’ve always loved smaller spaces. Tight, compressed spaces. There was a certain safety, a security, to not having anywhere to go–to be limited. It was easier that way, when less was up to you, and more to the universe. It was easier to choose, to hide in the dark than come out in the light where you’re always exposed, vulnerable to the evils of the world.
It was simpler that way.
No one could see me, judge me. I was alone, the only company being the darkness that engulfed me. I was away from those burning gazes, eyes that lay upon me, calculating and observing; as if every moment, every second I shone in their eyes, is a secret of mine spilt. Taken away. Stolen from the beating force that keeps me going, keeps me moving.
I was safe in the dark. Protected.
I had nothing to fear–I was fearless. I was free of my worries, my cares, my loves.
I had no baggage keeping me back. I had nothing to lose.
It was just me and the dark.
I never felt trapped there, I felt alive. No walls closed on me–they joined me.
I breathed nothing but my freedom and my happiness. I savored the feeling of comfort that welled up in my chest every moment I spent closed up, sheltered.
I felt beautiful when I was in the dark. I felt priceless, invaluable. Irreplaceable.
I had no insecurities–I had confidence. No one could see me. I couldn’t see me.
I had no reason to doubt. No reason to care–no reason to eat myself up in discouragement, filling myself with filthy lies till I reached my end.
But I lost that.
I lost all of that when I met you–my safety, my courage, my protection, everything.
Instead, I got something even more: