Have you ever felt something you can’t quite describe? Something which makes you feel safe. At peace. At ease. You see white roses in the bushes around you, so bright it’s like the reflection of the full moon up above in the starry sky. The wind rushes by, as though in a hurry to get somewhere (probably scared of the dark), and twirls your white laced dress around. You gracefully look up to find something unusual. A light bulb. You ask yourself if you should go near it, but halfway through your thoughts, you see yourself walking towards the bright light. Your hand lifts your index finger right towards the yellow, flickering heat. ‘Don’t touch it,’ you say to yourself, ‘it’s hot.’ But you can’t help it. You can’t resist the mesmerising allure that brings you closer. It makes you feel warm. Protected. Needy. Loved. You feel an energy that the bulb possesses. An energy which draws you towards itself. An energy that promises that everything that you are feeling is eternal. Your heart says yes, but your mind says no. You choose the one which you think is the right choice for you now. As your finger slowly touches the burning filament, it retracts itself immediately, leaving a small scar. It doesn’t hurt at first. You say it’s okay, it was just a small mistake. You say, ‘I’m only human.’ That’s when it starts. The aftermath of the gorgeous, blinding light. You want to run. You want to hide. You want to wake up and be glad it’s a dream. But you can’t. Because it’s not true. Because you thought it was eternal, and it wasn’t. Because the bulb was promising, but it was just a façade it used to lure you in. Trust. That’s all that mattered. But the wind took that with itself while running from the dark. You say you should have gone along. Escaped this madness before the calamity had erupted. Before you realised you were Pompeii and you stepped right into Mt.Vesuvius. You start searching for a way to leave. Leave this nightmare. But you can’t think straight. There’s no escape. No potions to make you small. No doors that lead to another world. No one to guide you through. The only way you can breathe is if you believe there is. But you can’t. You think you can. But you can’t. You close your eyes and click your soft, bare feet three times, wishing your heels will teleport you. But no. No magic can bring you back to life. Not even the wind. Only you can. But it’s too late. You look down. You look down and lift up your bruised finger. You see the scar. It will be with you forever. It will stay there to haunt you. It will chase you like a killer. You’re scared. You feel unsafe. Uneasy. You’re in pain. Have you ever had that feeling? Because I have. Only, he was more than just a light bulb. I was more than just someone who was drawn to him. And my heart was filled with more than just a scar.
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