The Story of You

You were born perfect, pure, at exactly the right time. The world was waiting for you.

Entering the world was painful. As you were pushed from the warmth of your mother’s body the two of you joined together at the bridge between life and death, and faced the power of existence together. And for a moment, for a time, however brief, you and she felt the pure light of love.

You became that light. You were nothing but curious, absorbing the world around you, seeing everything as magical, because it was all unexpected and all beautiful. For a time, the world was only concerned with your comfort and safety, and you were only concerned with experiencing the magic.

Then you realized you could create your own magic. At first, all the ones you loved, loved it. You spoke with the unusual cadence of an unstructured mind and they laughed. You reached for something you couldn’t grasp and they lifted you up. They taught, you learned.

And then, one day you said something they did not want to hear. You reached for something they were afraid of and it changed. They didn’t laugh, they scolded. They didn’t lift you up, they pushed you back. It scared you. Your magic, you learned, could be upsetting and even dangerous.

So, you practiced control. You carved the niches for yourself that allowed you to express but kept you safe from the world.

You trusted them. They kept you safe.

And then one day someone you trusted hurt you. And it wasn’t to keep you safe. It wasn’t a lesson. It was just pain. And fear. And powerlessness. They might have told you they were sorry afterward or that they didn’t mean it. Or they might have told you that you had to keep it secret. Or that it was your fault and you needed to be more careful so it didn’t happen again. But it didn’t make sense.

And the world moved on. It acted like nothing had changed. They started telling you to smile more. They wondered why you weren’t as happy. And you did your best to play along, to act like you were the same, so you wouldn’t have to answer so many questions.

But you were not the same. The world that seemed so bright and magical, was now dark and scary. Your home was haunted, monsters lived in your closet. You must have stepped down the wrong path, reached for the wrong thing, expressed the wrong idea and it left you cursed.

And since it was your light that guided you there, it must be the reason you were cursed. So, you hid it away.

But it didn’t help. Everything seemed harder. Everything went wrong. Plans fell apart. Relationships fell apart. People who loved you were hurt by you. You were hurt by you, and you did not know how to stop it.

When it hurt too much, you’d remember your light. And just the memory might be enough to create some magic. You might keep it hidden, or you might show the world. Either way, it was beautiful and was a reminder of the light.

But you couldn’t make magic all the time with just the memory. And around you, the callouses and the shrouds that covered your light, seemed to only grow thicker and darker. And the darkness kept your light from others, and sometimes it hurt people.

People who trusted you too.

And the guilt became the prison where your light was locked away. And it seemed like it might never return.

Now, without your light, you again stood at the precipice of life and death, this time alone, in a world that was already cold and threatened to get colder. You could surrender and wait to freeze to death, or reenter the darkness to find something you were no longer sure existed.

And you turned. You looked the demons in the face and used whatever tools you had to defeat them one by one. The monsters grew uglier and meaner as you descended back through the depths. But each one brought you closer to the light and reminded you of the magic you’d lost.

As your strength returned, you found more and more courage to face the monsters. But it would never get easy. There were voices that sounded like your own telling you to turn back, that you’d gone deep enough.

With your strength came sensitivity and the fears that you felt were new but also the same ones you’d buried with your light years ago. At any point it would have been easy to stop. But you persisted. Because you believed, because you knew, because you had told yourself before you hid your light, exactly where to find it.

But there were still monsters in the way. And they began to look like things you’d once told yourself you could not face.

The monsters looked like the people you loved.

The monsters looked like the people you hurt.

The monsters looked like you.

And then you realized the monsters did not need to be destroyed. They needed to be seen.

And that’s where you found your light.

Right where you left it.