Darkness

She had no idea when she fell asleep. But she could feel her body was stiff from lying on that leather sofa for too long. Was it too long? Was he still with her? Or did she just have a very long dream?

Her vision was slightly blurry, but she could notice there were no doors in the room anymore.

“Everything is gone” she whispered. Only the leather sofa remained.

She looked to where the door once existed. The image of the wooden door remained burned in her, so she yearned to exit. She wanted to press the handle, open the door and enter life. But there she was, where she always has been. In a place without doors. A place of marble walls and floors.

She began to reflect on the phenomenon of “falling in love”. She felt the conventional term was lacking in complexity; it reduced the whole thing to something physical. Falling in love described chemistry, physical havoc, biological intoxication. Whereas what she experienced was more of a transcendental experience: she wanted to become the other person. Her love object was so incredibly magnetic, that she experienced it as an urge to be pulled, glued, and sealed into the other person. Her body and mind would be completely under the arrest of the other. Sometimes, she experienced this romantically, with beautiful men. The kind of men who dressed, trimmed, and styled themselves into polished models of masculinity. And without fail, these were narcissistic men; strong on the outside, weak on their insides. Beautifully carved bodies with meek, twisted souls that wanted to crush, to eat dead spirits. These men contained a dead essence themselves, turning women into dead carcasses, so they could feed.

But she felt this incredible pull non-romantically as well; life would put her on the path of meeting intelligent men. It was unavoidable since she herself was intelligent, so she naturally attracted this type of man. (Of course, the same can be said for the pretty ones too and she knew it).

But these men, with whom she entered into mentorship relationships, were exquisite. They portrayed everything she ever dreamed of becoming: a sharp intelligence, elegant in speech and thought, with controlled emotionality. These were mature men, who possessed minds like swords; they brought wisdom, power, vision, structure, diligence, and stamina to her life. Each word they poured into her turned into law. She molded herself with the singular objective of becoming these men.

And every time she came close to making it a reality, each time unification felt near, her consciousness expelled her into the abyss. Darkness. Confusion. Rebelliousness. She rose above these men and sank in a black ocean. Her inner voice whispered “become independent!” and she struggled. She couldn’t ignore it, even when the pull was suffocating her. Even when sharp, intelligent men were praising her efforts, she couldn’t ignore the whimpering voice calling her towards autonomy.

But this was “falling” for her. In love? Not so much. Just falling for the other. Becoming fixated on the idea of unification. Obsessed beyond rationality to adore the other. And she felt that people made it too much about physicality, about romance, about kisses and love-making, when in fact it was an absolute fascination to become the adored other. Sometimes it didn’t feel physical, so she didn’t really see eye-to-eye with how people portrayed it around her.

It was falling-into-the-other, more accurately. And it was both building and destroying her. When she wasn’t falling, when she wasn’t chasing adorative objects to please and to merge into, she was here; alone. In utter darkness.

How could she escape both the falling and being here? Was there any other way between hope and hopelessness?

-There still is.

Behind her, the voice returned. His voice; low, coarse, but elegant. Calm and piercing altogether. She turned around and out of darkness, his silhouette appeared again.