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Without darkness there would be no shadows, and thus no place to hide.  But for those who have hidden too long, without shadows there would be no proof of our existence, and no place to face our fears.

She played “The Sound of Silence” once again.  Her favorite Simon and Garfunkel song.  She wondered why once again she was alone though her solitude contented her.  It has been a long time for her to finally have learned whom she happened to be.  In her loneliness, she found peace.  But this was not the end of her struggle, she suspected, and so she confirmed that perhaps she ought not give herself a name.  Not just yet.  She thought of her friends.  There was only one who knew her well.  Only one with whom she felt like herself.  But she was so far away.  Too far.  Thoughts of her always were a comfort, but they likewise dispelled an emptiness like death of a loved one, and the longing for times since passed that more than likely could never recreate themselves.  Change was a good thing, she thought, yet change was seemingly the cause of much of her loneliness.

There has been many an occasion when her being has been rejected without her understanding.  She often wished she was a musician and a song writer who could pour her thoughts and emotions into some medium that would manifest an immediate connection.  But she had only an appreciation and no talent for music.

She wished for peace.  She wished for no children to suffer.  She wished mankind would not continue to destroy the world or its creatures.  Though she knew that suffering was the path to enlightenment and understanding.  If one would not suffer, one would not seek to find answers or healing.

She drank red wine and called a couple friends whom she was able to reach.  Then confirmed once again that she was glad to be alone.  No one could truly become a part of what world she had created this night.  “The Sound of Silence” played again.

Loneliness tingled through her like a drug.  It rode with the wine through her blood.  She entered her fantasy world once again where she was never lonely.  In that world, she was rarely herself.  She was always someone else who now and then encountered her and found her fascinating.  In this world she could spend hours and hours, alone yet in company with those she invited into her mind.  She liked this world, allowing herself to become indirectly vulnerable yet never in truth was she ever harmed.  Perhaps this was how she chose to heal herself.  Perhaps it was healing for her to imagine herself as someone else for a change.

So much gone and forgotten.  When it would return within her heart, it would be painful, and did not always form itself into enough of a memory to be founded in any part to do with reality.  Though she knew it was true.

“The Sound of Silence” played again.

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