I am no longer afraid of the dark.
I used to be.
But things are different now.
I haven’t been afraid of the dark, or the horrors that might lie waiting in it, since my father passed away. Its funny, because I wouldn’t dare to close my eyes after watching a horror movie, even when he was alive. Maybe now that I know his physical body’s gone now, I can console myself that his metaphysical form will kick the ass of any other metaphysical being that dares to even harbour thoughts of hurting me.
I used to be afraid of the dark when I slept by myself in my room. Now I have a person laying next to me, whose movements I can keep track of, just by lying still and listening to the mattress move; mattress diving, if you may.
I lost someone who will never be replaced, but I found someone else whose place in my heart will never be filled by another person.
I am no fool, nothing is forever. But who says we shouldn’t enjoy the transience of happiness, even of it means being overwhelmed with joy at finding your favourite flavour at the ice cream shop.
Maybe the transience of the good things in life is what makes them all the more beautiful.
I could spend an eternity mourning my father’s passing, or take a minute to relive the memories of him holding my hand in Central Park. I could wallow in the cold, hard truth that romance does not last forever, or I could smile, and snuggle up to the warm body lying next to me and fall asleep.
