The Dark



6/7/2021 2 min read

the dark. when all there is is talk of light bright. here i go digging in the dark. dark trim, dark walls. dark corners with dark secrets. 
oh goodness i don't want this to be another the light the dark the light the dark kind of conversation

so dark walls, dark trim - can it still radiate? we'll find out. 

so dark corners, dark secrets - can they still radiate? we're finding out. or maybe haven't we figured that out already?

the dark is a vast, vague place. . . am i right or am i right?

but all this vastness and vagueness has me thinking of the past and the future. 

the past - all the futures i didn't live. 

the future - how life looks after grappling with the past, after owning it. after grieving the futures that didn't come to fruition. 

i once upon a time dreamt of the lights of the city, in a crisp and mid-modern poppy pop kind of home. with everything delivered and everything on demand. with dinner parties and martinis. great dresses and somewhat snobbish social graces. depth with no depth. claiming to be the educated, the sophisticated but really being the life-longing and the influenced, the vacant aspiring academic socialite. the walk in the room and be somebody kind of person. but really the person hiding in the dark, about to hit the darkest of the dark. 

they call it rock bottom. but it's more like hitting rock bottom while the rock walls collapse on top of me. and since then, since the dreams of my dinner parties and martinis were crushed to smithereens i have tried and tried again to forget about those dreams. to forget the life i thought i would have. but i can't. and not because i wish to reclaim it. or because i secretly wish i would have chosen differently. but just because it's over. because i had my time in the city sun and i find that i prefer the cool breezes coming off the greatest of lakes. the jagged shores to the sandy beaches. the life in this quiet peaceful place where i get to be the loud one, the bright one, the one that is all of those things i wanted before - but in a way that is much more. . . more. because it isn't based on hiding the dark. it's based on being it all. 

and there are days when i start wondering where the people from those years might be. and i miss them in that kind of way when you miss someone, wish them well and wonder if it was a season or a reason. and i do miss them. and i do miss my cast of runaway bride sometimes but it fades. and i realize that it was life (steve martin narrates that line). and that i'm damn grateful that each season and reason helped me figure out (and accept) the type of eggs that i actually like. because it's not about the city or the small town. the light or the dark. it's not about the dichotomy. it's not about picking one or the other. it's about being ok with all of it, accepting all of it. being all of it. learning all of it. trying each way to cook an egg and figuring out what's right, right now.

so right now i'm keeping my dark beautiful stained wood trim (although that was never in question) and i'm painting all (or at least almost all) my damn walls dark, luscious, vibrant, bold, opulent, rich colors. and my vivacious poppy pop self will figure out where that light and bright is coming from. and right now, that's what's right.