Somewhere in the distance, I see a little girl running freely through an open field, laughing as if she had no worry in the world, moonlight cascading around her. Chasing after her, I see an older girl, laughing too, with similar features and a familiar face… my face. That little girl is me… and the elder girl is what I want to be. I see two versions of myself laughing and enjoying the moment from where I stand and I wonder, is this how it feels to be outside looking in? No, rather, I’m inside looking out. A pang of pain hits me deep inside as I cry my eyes out wanting so much to be out there. Everything around me seems so small and dark, as if it were all caving in, and then everything went silent. I could no longer hear the laughter of my two shades or the sound of my anklets as both of my shades chased after each other. What I feared most, happened. The thought of an infinitely silent world always frightened me. As I sat there in my dark, silent bubble all alone, I realized that this world is, in fact, infinitely silent. The color is in us, the sound is in us, so if this world was to be void of “us” would it not be infinitely silent? When I considered the short duration of life in general, swallowed up in the eternity that lies before and after it, when I considered the little space I fill and see, engulfed in the infinite immensity of spaces of which I am and remain ignorant to, I sat frightened, and astonished because there was never a reason to be afraid. I’m one person amongst trillions and trillions… so small in this universe. The infinite silence I feared for so long, suddenly ceased to matter. My bubble no longer existed and for the first time I felt alive because I wasn’t like the sad child staring out the window during a storm hoping for sun anymore. The storm had passed. The little me was the calm before the storm and the older one, the bright sunshine after it. I was and am both of those girls, the younger one waving at me from where she stood, smiling. Reminding me that this is what I used to be once, carefree and alive. The older one holding the younger one’s hand, waving as well, showing me that this is what I can be. The look in their eyes and the smile on their faces was so inviting, as if asking me to join them, so I did. As I neared them, they took hold of my hands and fused into me, leaving nothing but one, single me. I always thought truth was a candle inside a multicolored lantern. Everyone looks through a particular color and assumes they have seen truth, but the candle is always constant. I was one of those people, but then I thought, what if what we see isn’t the truth and only color-blind people see what’s really there? It wasn’t until I saw it that I realized, the color of Truth is gray because it comes from a combination of light and dark, the good and bad, pleasant and bitter… but think of the many shades it produces. The little me was white, pure. The me trapped in that bubble was black, lost. When the two fused, I became the elder me that I so desperately yearned to be… gray. I laughed, I danced, I cried. This is my journey… happiness to self discovery, and I’ve lived every bit of it. 🙂