I walked into her room and found her sleeping. She must have forgotten to close the door. I slowly closed her door and went back to my room.
The next morning, she said she “sensed” me when I was there. She was sleeping but not all the way and she could feel my presence.
But then she said something which put me off.
“I felt like your soul was dark. I can’t explain. But something didn’t feel right.”
I had been off my antidepressants for almost a year. I wasn’t “cured” but I wasn’t exactly a pool of happiness. She and I had broken up but we were living in the same apartment together. She was still my best friend and we understood each other well enough to see that living together saved both of us money in the long run.
I hadn’t been to church in a while. It was almost like I had lost my religion. Or rather I had thrown it in a dark place and never wanted to see it again. Everything was different since the incident. Since that lonely night in that apartment where death was whispering in my ear.
When she said that she felt like my soul was “dark”, I was a bit worried. I had been going through mental anguish and loneliness. Life had stopped making sense. I thought it was because of the meds. Or maybe it was because I had lost purpose of what I wanted to do in life.
When she said she had “sensed” me when I walked into her room, I knew what she was talking about. It’s like an ability that we humans don’t know we possess. The ability to sense “auras” around people. The ability to sense each other souls without realizing it. I also had the ability.
So, when she said she could “sense” my darkness, I knew I wasn’t in good shape….
I went to church with her. She had insisted. I think she felt that I need some divine guidance. Maybe she felt something was stealing my light. The light she had been once attracted to. I think she felt like God could help in that arena.
Nothing really happened in the next weeks. I didn’t get “delivered”. There was no exorcism. But I did realize that I had been closed off. I wasn’t paying attention to what was happening outside. I forgot that people still had hope and would congregate to give thanks to a divinity. They gave thanks and prayed for more life. Prayed for safety.
In all, I realized what I had been missing:
I’m pessimistic. I have low expectations about everything. I’m usually right most of the time. The times that I’m wrong, I’m always pleasantly surprised.
But despite my cynicism, I do possess the tiniest bit of hope. Sometimes things can look dire. Situations can look impossible.
I’m all about the numbers and probability. But even when it seems like things look impossible and there’s a 90% chance of things getting worse, there’s always that 10% that it could be better. That 10% is hope.
I think that’s what she saw when I walked into her room.
I had gone dark. But there was still a little bit of light in me.
That little bit of hope.