Feeling Blind

I can feel it in the darkness. I can almost feel its breath on my back. But I can’t see it. It’s so dark in here. I’ve been running for the better part of the day, and I think I’m lost.

 

 

 On the way in, it seemed pretty easy to find my way back. It would have been, except that the electricity got cut, and the generator didn’t kick in. Even the small security lights which pave the floor stayed dark.

 

 

I hate the dark. Not being able to see around me gives me a feeling of claustrophobia. But I’m not talking about the darkness you have at night in the cities. You always have some source of light around you, even when you switch everything off to sleep at night. I mean real darkness. Being in a mine, a cave, a tunnel. Not being able to distinguish your hand placed in front of your face, even though you know it’s there. Becoming blind has always been my greatest anguish. Now I know what it feels like, and it frightens me even more.

 

 

I’ve come to the end of a corridor. Which way to go? Is there even a choice? I’d have to make my way uncovered and unprotected by the walls in order to know how many directions this corridor has divided into. What good would it be anyway? I don’t know where I am, and where I’m going. I once heard that when you’re in a maze, you should always take the same direction. I’ve been going right for some time now, and I don’t even know if that’s got me any closer to the exit. Maybe I’ve been going in circles. I might even be going back there. Straight back to the place I want to escape.

 

 

At times I hear footsteps, faint, then stronger, as if in a nearby corridor. I stop moving, breathing, living almost. I don’t want it to catch up with me, because God knows what would happen then. Would it tear me up? Force its way into me, or weigh down onto my chest, suffocating me?  

 

 

Then the sounds fade and the silence becomes intolerable, because I’m wondering where it’s gone to, and when it’ll come back. Maybe it’s just waiting for me around the corner, smiling its wry smile, a faint red glow seeping from its eyes. I guess as long as I don’t see any red light I’ll be fine. But I’m getting tired. The game being played on me is highly unnerving, and the dark is making it worse. I have trouble breathing, as the feeling of claustrophobia slowly creeps up again. Maybe I’ll sit down for a while, just enough time to regain control of myself, to start breathing again. 

 

 

What if I never make it out of here? Will I just die and rot in this place? All because of this thing circling around me, frightening me? I so want to escape it but the fear is freezing me on the spot.

 

 

Maybe I will. Maybe it’s not as bad as I think. Maybe I can deal with it, live with it. Maybe I’ll surrender. Maybe.

 

 

But then you would have won. I don’t want to live the rest of my life bearing the guilt for something I didn’t do. Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? Guilt. You decided to kill yourself, and I’d have to deal with the guilt I’m supposed to be feeling? I didn’t do anything. I didn’t pop the pills into your mouth, or even hand you the box, nor did I give you the gun or press the trigger. I’m guessing you’d have a back up plan, in case the first attempt went wrong. And a note saying “You made me do it” in big bold letters. No, I don’t have to carry that guilt, because dying is the easy way out. We always have a choice, and yours was stupid one. What I would have liked to tell you is to grow, be a man, and take it like a man. Too late I guess. Not that it would have made a difference anyway. Once a wimp…

 

 

 

 

Hey, what’s that bright light over there?