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La ceguera emocional es un lujo que sale caro y que la mayoría de la veces es (auto)destructivo 

Alice Miller

"It's time to wake up" says the tiny voice inside your head. So often and for so long ignored, it has finally said "this is too much". For there it stands, determined, torch in hand. Conquering your fears, a battlecry into the dark, leading an army, going forward into the night. 

The shadowmask is starting to crack, the light is pushing its way out, the rotting behind is starting to get washed away, the demons are turning tail, running for the hills, hoping to survive the cleansing light.

Care for the jester, for he is cunning, pulling our strings to hold us back. He laughs in our nightmares, hoping to keep us stumbling in the dark. But not anymore, for I have decided to make a stand, face the inner dark and stop dancing to his music, before we become one.  

And, in just an instant, everything slides out of focus. All those long walks, all those steps, all those nights becoming morning suddenly turn meaningless. The past gets a new meaning and the future it promised looks old, repetitive, dim, uninviting. 

 I would like for the light that travels across my eyes to reach out to yours. Such beauty, such strength, negated by an obscured sight. The mirror lies to you and I just want to smash it, for the slight chance that you'll see your real reflection in one of those thousands of fragments floating before your eyes. Before it's too late, before they reach the ground. Before we, too, fall alongside them to become forgotten dust.

My hand is reaching, standing alone in the dark, threatened to be consumed by the ghosts of my past. But I have not yielded, for I have never believed in anything this much.