There was the shadow of herself on the wall, plain and invisible. A flicker of existence only revealed when the light dared to come too close. It lingered there, a quiet contradiction, like a secret everyone knows but no one dares to mention.
It is unloyalty, yet it demands allegiance, a reckless, impossible claim. Can you imagine the chaos it would unleash? To be one thing, to carry the weight of one truth, and yet demand another to hold you, to cradle you in the fragile arms of values you have never owned, never upheld?
It is madness and the madness no longer hides.It stands there now, unmasked, it's wounds raw and exposed, its ugliness no longer softened by the lies it once told itself.
The shadow is her, and it is not.
It is the fractured piece of her soul she cannot reconcile, the part that holds its breath when the light draws near, afraid of being seen, yet desperate for recognition.
And what is left, but this trembling chaos?The weight of contradictions, the fragile balance of a self that cannot decide whether it wants to be whole or simply to disappear.
It is unloyalty, yet it demands allegiance, a reckless, impossible claim. Can you imagine the chaos it would unleash? To be one thing, to carry the weight of one truth, and yet demand another to hold you, to cradle you in the fragile arms of values you have never owned, never upheld?
It is madness and the madness no longer hides.It stands there now, unmasked, it's wounds raw and exposed, its ugliness no longer softened by the lies it once told itself.
The shadow is her, and it is not.
It is the fractured piece of her soul she cannot reconcile, the part that holds its breath when the light draws near, afraid of being seen, yet desperate for recognition.
And what is left, but this trembling chaos?The weight of contradictions, the fragile balance of a self that cannot decide whether it wants to be whole or simply to disappear.
