Jumbled up

Even though it wasn't late, it was pitch-dark. I kept walking as I came across a lit-up street. Trying to block out the harsh lights from the street lamps, I raise my palm up to my forehead as if i was blocking the sun. That particular evening, the street lamps seemed to surpass the sun and were burning my iris. I bowed my head while pacing up my speed. Yet, it found me again. The lights bounced off the rain puddles on the street, playing peek-a-boo with me, pricking my eyes all the while. I dismissed them, stomping the puddles with my feet. My tries were in vain as the fragmented lights would join back together like some indestructible monster and complete the picture again and again to prick my eyes.

I have known for a little while now: everything is a lie. Even my own shadow is a lie. Shadow; is it really a depiction of us? My shadow: long and lanky as my eye could see wasn't me. My shadow tries to run away, while i stand still, at the first sight of a fast car with bright lights.. My shadow runs, stretches to a distance and springs back to my feet. It couldn't be a portrayal of who I am.

But that night, it wasn't a lie. I was my shadow and my shadow was me. We were bound together by the repellence of light.