ENGL 111 2:00
20 October 2022
A Wasted Life
I can't see. The darkness that surrounds me is consuming. Memory tells me that there are four fold up chairs clustered together five feet up and to the left of me. Three shirts, a skirt, two pairs of pants, an overcoat, and a pair of rainbow striped leggings are neatly draped over a banister an arm's length away to my right. If I walk forward three more steps my left foot should bump into a faded red and paint splattered plastic crate filled with adult magazines. A well-worn 1996 copy of Just Us Boys, featuring a completely nude male, who is proudly displaying all of his assets, sits suspiciously at the top of the pile. Even in the dark, his shaggy black hair, hazel eyes, and sweat glistening body, with tiny droplets sliding down his chest and into his navel, tempt those who pass by.
It's cold here. Goose bumps rise up on my skin as bodies brush up against me every once and a while, teasing me with their warmth. They were letting me know that they are there. I can't see or hear them, but I can feel them. I find comfort in the fact that they can't see me either. I shift my position, winding my way through an invisible maze, beyond which is enough light to rival that of the sun. Oddly enough, the light fails to penetrate the depthless black me and mine find ourselves in. One wrong step could send me onto a path that I'm not familiar with, a path whose traffic could become disrupted and delayed by my mere presence, but that won't happen; I know my own path far too well.
I stand with my back pressed up against a wall and my head turned to the left, watching as the chaos unfolds under all the lights. It's so different out there. I can see everything. I can hear everything. I can feel the heat let off from all the lights and energy exerted by the people out there, but that's not where I belong. I belong in the dark where I have to follow two rules: do not be seen, and...