I was always fascinated by how certain people could face their own deaths without blinking an eye. As if their own life didn't matter, as if their own destruction was simply an obstacle to be overcome rather than the end. Death was only the next adventure for them, full of mystery and wonder. It was intriguing, confusing, captivating, how one could let go of all they had on this earth, in this life, and simply glide onto the next without protest. For the majority of us, we clung to the last drops of our life as fiercely as a mother safeguarding her children, desperate for that one last sensation, that one last farewell, that one last kiss. And when we received these things, or could not delay the inevitable for any longer, we were simply gone.

But as much bravery these people possess, even their courage will inevitably fail them. How is it that those people could walk boldly, proudly, into the arms of Death, but when faced with the loss of a loved one, turned away and lied to themselves? The strongest man in the world could be brought to his knees by the passing of his infant daughter, and even the most cold blooded of us could be nearly incapacitated by the grief resulting from that one gap in the emotional armor the hardest of us wore.

As I look back on my life, I see the eighteen year old girl I should have been. That I had been. Carefree, innocent, life still full of surprises and sunlight. But that girl is now just a dream, an illusion created to taunt me, to show what I had lost. The sea that seemed to always sync with my emotions, whether it be waves pounding the cliffs or so still the sky itself seemed to be swallowed up in its vastness. The smell of the air, fresh from the sea and the wildflowers that always grew along the shoreline. The strong hands that enclosed mine in their warm grasp, the slight brushing of lips across my forehead. Eyes that matched the water in shallow tide pools by the ocean. The elements that made me who I was, the irrefutable parts that with their removal would completely and utterly change me to the person whose eyes I see through now.

A storm had touched down, and with a wrath akin to that of the Creator Himself, had swept away all semblances of the girl I was. Bright lights slowly extinguished, some in the initial squall, others later, doggedly persisting until they shrank to pinpricks of nothingness. Cut adrift, I wandered.

But as they say, not all who wander are lost. In the strange twisted place in which I found myself, I was not alone. Others, with no light to guide them, wandered like me. By chance and coincidence, I collided with another vulnerable soul and from it came a tiny spark of light. Just tiniest hint of a glow, but to the desperate beings we were, it was blinding. We clung together, and the light grew until it obliterated everything else.

But in that world, in that life, such brightness was impossible. That world was composed only of shadows, of darkened streets and crumbling buildings, of blood splattered pavements and leering faces. A place where only horror lived, where spectral beings ruled with an iron fist. Loved ones could be torn away in an instant, no matter how desperately we tried to shield them. Our lives were spent in the murky depths of doubt and uncertainty. I was no exception. With one swift moment, my newfound light was eradicated.

Fear, though, has no place where I am now. I'm drifting, in that place dreams go in the moments after waking. Images dance tantalizingly before my eyes, welcoming me into their presence. I allow them to flow around me, embracing the sensation, lighter than air, a tranquil place that is as rare as the fleeting sensation of hope. My hands are washed clean, my whole body wiped of any impurities. My dreams beckon me forward, to go with them to a place where I know I'll be loved, to a place that's light and airy, a place where nightmares don't exist. But alas, my spirit still clings to a small pinprick of light, the last remaining bit of my extinguished light, my only anchor to the convoluted life I had lived so long ago. And try as I might to sever that which chained me, as much as I try to extinguish the light, it persists, glowing with a brightness that slowly intensifies and draws me closer, further away from my dreams. Though I should be angry, should be fighting the light, I let it pull me in. There's a burst of light.

It's the most beautiful color I've ever seen.