Short story phase 1: The Darkness

It’s easy to wake up when you’re restless. Being perpetually restless, it was exceedingly easy to wake up today.

The darkness doesn’t bother me. The darkness is welcoming. It’s easy to get lost, but it’s also an opening into a different world. Things are not as clear. Not as crisp. Stark contrast is gone, and everything is blurred; colors are muted, lines are softened — the world is new.

What bothers me is the light.

Invariably I have to turn on my phone before getting out from the enveloping warmth of the covers. The glow blocks everything else. Nothing exists beyond the soft light.

Until willpower takes over, and my legs swing out from under the covers, releasing me from the embrace of sleep and comfort. Then the phone is casually placed in my pocket and the darkness returns.

But the glow won’t stay silent, it won’t relent. It’s there. Even though the phone is safely stored, where the light can’t escape, the light remains; glowing through the darkness and causing my head to pound leading to the inevitable question of, “am I dehydrated or just getting old?”

The answer is always the same: it’s both.

The glow is unrelenting. A constant reminder that my eyes want the light. They crave the ability to see. They want to apply themselves.

So the light switch is turned on, and light envelopes the room.

The day begins.

There’s no turning back now. It felt just like every other day. Who knew it would be the last one in the dark. Today, the sun appeared for the first time in my life.

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