Subject Omitted “The Purple Light”
“Things used to be different for them, before something tried to smother their light. Before they were abandoned, just as much as we were,
these things...
these beings of...
was walking home last night, when I saw a purple light, sitting where a light should not be. That was the start of it I think, the beginning of all those things that seemed to finally fall into place. I didn't mean to tell it what had happened. I was just so very tired, so very very tired, the sort of tired that clings to your eyelids, the kind that is there when you wake up and when you go to sleep, and which no amount of rest can make go away.
And as I close my eyes, I can feel the sand under my eyelids even now.
That was the kind of state I was in, and I just...
wanted to share that with you.
Hoping against hope that it will make what I did an accident.
That was the kind of state I was in, and I just...
wanted to share that with you.
Hoping against hope that it will make what I did an accident.
You are so special to it. To everything.
I had to share, so that it would know why I was so damn tired, and why I am still so damn tired.
The kind of tired...
You know the rest.
I told it the truth. But the truth isn't always the right thing to share, depending on the company. Some people can take those bad, hard truths, and grow from them in ways that will leave you audibly gasping in surprise.
But it isn't like that.
The purple light.
It wants us to share.
It wants you to share.
So some can feel filled, and so some can be punished.
It doesn't do the deed.
That is another thing for another day, and there have been so many “another days” lately don't you think? Like things are being worked through.
Like therapy, only on a “so much bigger than you could ever imagine” sort of scale.
I am rambling. I know I am rambling. I get this way when I open my eyes, when I know that I should be sleeping but I just need to write one more sentence, just one more word so that this life I live doesn't feel like it is being lived by everyone else but me. It's words on a page.
It is a purple light, glowing brightly in places it shouldn’t be.
U an si turedm abd ut wabts ne ti skeeo,m
I am so tired, and it wants me to sleep.
But I don't get to do that yet. Not until I told it who it was that made me this way, and why it is that I cannot find reason to sleep, and why I am staying up half the night trying to write all of this with my eyes closed, though the light is clear against my eyelids.
It had to know why, and it didn't need to ask me.
It simply is. It listens.
We spoke.
Or I spoke and it listened.
And I told it about you.
There is a purple light where one shouldn't have been, standing out like a glare off a car on a summer day. You want to look away, to find a way to put your hands up and avoid looking at it, but you still have to drive.
Purple Light...
We have come this far, my babe. We might as well see where this all goes.
I spared no details. Not a single one. I gad bitgubg vyt a vacyne if sukebce ti fukk yom abd tge nire U takjedm tgere nire
The more I talked, the more I remembered.
The purple light was there for me. Is for those like me. It was waiting for me to come out and see it, knowing I would find it.
It isn't for you.
It won't go looking for you.
That isn't what it does.
The red light sits in judgment-
and the purple light listens.
I think that there is no way to tell this that will leave you feeling satisfied, or will make you understand. I have run it over a thousand times in my head, both on purpose and against my will, and the result is always the same.
Things are out of place, houses moved from their original locations, but only by a little. Maybe it is a house a few places down that suddenly finds itself with a pine tree covering the bay window, or a gate surrounding their property.
I have to be crazy to be seeing these things right?
There is no other option.
And it all started with a purple light, sitting in a place it had no right being, one I would have noticed sooner had it been there before. And even with all these details seeping and clinging to one another, the ideas of what I see and don't see are still a confusing mess that only gets worse when I sleep...
People have heard enough stories about things being wrong, about places being off by just enough to be noticed by some but not by others, or the way a dream within a dream leaves us feeling out of breath and out of our mind.
That purple light.
That night I was just taking a walk, just looking for an excuse to get out of the house. My doctor said I needed to get more exercise, because of the pills and all that. I had to prevent blood clots, and I really needed the sun. Only I can't walk during the day. I can't find the time.
So I walked at night, though I haven't left my house in a while now.
There is trash building up in the spaces of my house, in those places where I can hide them, remnants of this or the other thing that says this house isn't how it is supposed to be. I try throwing them away, like the old lamp or the recliner, but they return because they now belong in the house. But there is nothing saying I can't break them apart and move them around.
I ran out of room in the basement. I have tried sneaking things into the vents
I came home from the walk, and there was a purple light, coming from under the door to the bedroom. I try not to think about who is supposed to be in there, or how much they may want to get out.
The purple light.
It isn't going away.
There is a silence in this house...
And it is waiting to be filled.
Why.
Why is this so damn hard to write?
This is the third time I have tried to put this down, to get it out as a clear picture so people can understand. But it feels like it isn't meant to be known, that is is simply meant to be or not be, and the hows and the why are meant to be lost to everyone, even those in the know.
This purple light.
How many times am I going to repeat this before it starts to make sense, before a narrative is formed and people are able to finally hear me talk without cocking an eyebrow or politely changing the subject or walking away?
It all fits in somehow, but I can't figure out how.
It is a piece of something, but I can't figure out what. It glows like the others, but it is not like them. The others have purpose, but this seems to lack one.
One sits in judgment. One knows the judgment.
And one simply is the is, and that is all.
But that sounds like madness, the sort of sentence that makes no fucking sense no matter how many times you write it.
Christ, I have tried to get this out, but my mind feels like it just completely separated, like one thought to another is disrupted and all I am left with are snatches of information that float away before I get a good grip.
Why does it matter?
It feels like the fact I can't write about it is why I want to explain it. It shouldn't be this damn hard to explain, but it is!
Maybe this is nothing and was always nothing.
The purple light was just a strange choice of light bulb for someone to use on their porch.
The purple light was just a strange trick of the eye when I left the TV on in my room.
It is just something very strange and very...wrong.
It doesn't fit. Yes!
It looks for what doesn't fit, for the things that disrupt?
NO!
No no no no NO!
That's not it! Because it doesn't fit! It listens and I speak and it listens and I speak.
That is all. But it isn't all.
They are missing. They have ceased to be. Something has moved, committed an action because of my words, and I can't for the life of me remember what it was I said!
It is like I had a wound, and it is gone, but not the space. The wound is gone, but the space where the wound was is gone, and now it is just an empty space with nothing to fill it.
And there is a black smear on my fucking kitchen floor!
There are three blacks shapes, like shadows without bodies! In MY room.
What did I say!
Please tell me what I said!
Speak God Dammit!
Say Something!
…
….
Purple Light.
It listens.
The Red Light.
It sits in Judgment.
I have told it something secret.
The secret doesn't exist anymore.
It is simply a thing that was.
Or a person
Or a place.
And now it isn't.
Like a light in a place it has no right to be.
I am one with the glow
And the glow is one with me.”
Had I known how it was going to turn out, I likely would have done something different. But we cast our choices out into the inevitability, and once that die has been cast, there is no way to take it back. Like nuclear fission, or chocolate cake. Some things can't be separated once they have been brought together, and some things can't be brought back, once their components have been rendered.
I just can't get it right
I am trying but it doesn't want to be known.
I know
It
Listens.
