The Dark Light

    Sort of related, as much as an epilogue would be to its story, to a short story that yet lacks a middle.

    My mother had been a Light. Pale hair and skin, golden eyes and markings, and the ability to create light from herself. The Lights that came about decades ago have started to dwindle, just like the more 'normal' sorts of lights. She died in an explosion of light, brought up by her expending her energy so far and trying to make things so bright... Things didn't go as she had hoped they would, the world did not start to become light again. In fact, I think it has grown darker. The stars are becoming lesser and it seems the world will be dark and cold, just as the Dark wants.
    People think that the Lights are the sparks of hope that had been unleashed from Pandora's Box, where this all started thanks to the Agency and a few idiots who went down there. My mother used to say that maybe I was the real hope, but also a possible way for the darkness that cloaks the world to grow. I used to look like a Light, but then I changed when I was little, or so my mother and Henry, someone else who didn't want to kill me on sight, claimed. Now my hair is raven black, my eyes midnight, and my markings pitch; I can absorb the Darklings, forgo food when I do, even. People fear me and hate me. Since my mother, Henry, and I  could never find a small group of humans to accept us, not even our own group, they built a small fort. I still live there. Thinking. Wondering.

    My mother said my father had loved star books and maps, even if he'd never seen a sky full of the various constellations he knew by heart. He wanted a starry sky, and my mother did as well. Henry wanted to see a bright blue sky again, since he was alive when the world became to darken, but he died much too soon for it. Part of me wants to bring the light back, if I can. Absorb the dark as much as I can, maybe...turn it all back against the center of all this. Overflow it with its own darkness. Or just try to take it all into myself. I might feel uncomfortable when the light would return, since I know my mother's spectacular death had ended up with me unconscious out for a long while. Henry told me I had been so for nearly a whole day. Light and I do not get along, simply put, and thankfully none of the Lights we had ever come upon actually acted on their threats of killing me as they do the Darklings.

    But...then there's the other part of me. The part of me that wants to have these people all get what they deserve. They turned us away, because they thought me a monster. I could help them if they had allowed me to. The creatures that attack them never attack me until it is too late. Part of me wants to release the darkness I have gathered onto them, darken the skies all the quicker. Somehow I can see the moon and sun in my mind, both casting shadows over the land and sea, even though I've seen neither before. I want to banish those images, banish the hope those people cling on to. 

    Part of me wants to damn them all.

    My mother used to call me a Dark Light, since I clearly wasn't a Light, but not human either. She used to call me that fondly, thinking I could help one day. Fondly, even though my name, Lucetta, means 'little light' and I could not, can not, live up to that name. I don't want to help. But I do want to give Mother and Henry what they wished for, if only after death. They deserve that, but the others don't. Perhaps when I find the center what I should do will just come to me and I'll know. Maybe I'll know when I see this twisted monster that had been unleashed, the thing that killed Zora, my mother.

    Doing either of my options will likely kill me, but I hope whichever I do chose will let me rest in peace.

Hope

    Tired, frustrated, and hating how plans that could help things always fall off a steep cliff. I'm used to plans dying, but when there's very little of choice for a distraction from frustration? Yea, that doesn't help. So, yea, it's just one of those not so great days where there's only so much to do to help it. But writing helps, sort of. At least it gives me something to try and do, even if it's writing about how not so good I feel, it helps somewhat.
    I don't get frustrated easily, but when I do, it's...difficult to deal with because it's not a small thing. Have to work on that, i guess, but I prefer to frustrated as rarely as possibly instead of being so just to work on dealing with it when my original plans of distraction fall through. I don't like plans, cause the pretty much never work out anyhow. Plans and frustration, if I could banish those things, I would. But, sadly, they are two things that must be lived with, and learned to be dealt with. Today's clearly going to be a long day, but maybe it can yet be salvaged. I'm a pessimist when it comes to me, not others, but there's still that thing called hope that most people have. If we didn't have hope, what would we have? Nothing except depression probably. Hope is that driving force we all have, so, even when you feel like crying for the sheer frustration of whatever, you still have to hope there's something that will come of it sooner or alter. Like...original plans died like a squirrel under a tire, but maybe there's something else to be had for that happening? Maybe. Maybe not. Personally, I'm still hoping for something good to come of it, but my doubts are high. I doubt it, but still that little thing of hope which could make things better or worse, depending on the out come.
    Starting to think I'll maybe take a quick nap before diving into the source of my frustration. As much as I'd rather avoid things, I have to just deal with it for a few reasons. Maybe it won't be so bad once I start doing stuff, but I don't know yet. We'll see. But I'm still hoping for something else after, if I'm lucky at all for once. But we'll see. And always keep hope. The moment you lose hope, you lose everything that could potentially good. Once hope is gone, there is nothing but a hollow shell. Once hope is gone, that's how actual true depression can blind side you. Hope is one of our building blocks needed to deal with all the awful things in the world. Hope helps us live. Hope helps us be human. Hope is...hope.


    And, as an addition, stuff can happen so long as you give that hopeful energy. Least it did for me this once.

Human Condition

    The human condition has been termed and interpreted in so many ways. Various aspects are thought of and wondered about, but enough can't always be certain that certain things are across all humans. Really, the human condition is just...random... We're emotional creatures, who try to fight that emotion with logic. Which wins out? At least in my case, emotion does. There are some who can override emotion with logic, then there are those who simply are incapable of feeling any emotion; the latter being sociopaths, so I won't go too much into that. But for people like me, emotion wins out...roughly 90% percent or more of the time.
    Little things can bring people down when they're in a low mood. Little things can stack up until they topple over and cause someone to fall down into a bad mood. Logic can tell someone to not worry since it's...life, you can't do anything for it. But emotion? Well that's the bitch that makes things difficult depending on what level you feel things. Some people can hide behind a shield of apathy, but have little things that can make the feelings of guilt and remorse resurface. Some only have that issue when it comes to people they care about. Long days can make some who already feel not so great feel worse. Things not working out, can make people feel awful. Life just...going on and being life as it is, can make people slip and fall however low they may go.
    This is not about depression, but of simple low points that people feel at times. It hurts, but it's just how things are. If you're a logical person, good for you, glad you can override whatever. If you never feel low points, congrats. But for people who can slip into funks that last a couple days, maybe a week or so, that's life. Knowing that doesn't make things better, but so long as the knowledge that it will pass, that you can get on out of that pit of sadness or whatever soon, that, if you upset someone in a generally minor way (like saying something not too detrimental, not...saying they should kill themselves and honestly meaning it, or, hell, even not meaning it) that they will get pass that, too, so you don't have to feel guilty anymore. And always remember the bright spots there; be it seeing and laughing with friends, or just taking some time to relax on your own.
    I'm not an optimist by any means, but hope is something that is part of the human condition, I think. You need hope to tell you that things will pass, that you won't want to curl up in a corner someplace for the rest of your life, that...whatever surrounds you is not permanent. If it weren't for hope, everyone would fall into serious depression, not just bad moods. Hope is the line between being broken and being held together.