There once was a time where I used to be afraid of the shadows.

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A large, dark figure replicating the image of me on the ground, against the wall with every move I made.

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The fear grew from the acknowledgement of not knowing what this shadow could do, who it was.

I saw it the most when life just felt dimmed during my sunken days.

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Those times used to hurt the most.

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I used to be afraid of the shadows until that day when it came to my rescue.

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It protected me.

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That day where the light had deceived me, played a trick and painted a façade over the truth of what it actually was: just darkness.

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Yet because I had the shadow there, that light couldn't find its way in to hurt me, my shadow blocked its entry.

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That day I overcame my fear of the shadows.

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I understood the magnitude of its figure and the purpose it had.

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Even during my sunken days, I still had my internal light, whole in its purity and patient to outlive its destiny; and the shadow was there to protect me from the external lights of deceit.