Strand of Lights

Megan DeWitt, Contributing Writer

Walking into my bedroom, I close the wooden door behind me, effectively cutting me off from the rest of my family and their laughter that soars into the air like music. The bags under my eyes feel heavier than how they normally feel, and my bones ache more than they used to. I look over at my bed, decorated in blue blankets and star-shaped pillows, beckoning me to climb into it. Before I do, however, I turn on my lights, and then I obey my body’s wishes.

Tucked underneath my blanket, I stare at those strands of lights. There’s two of them, separate strands of little fairy lights dangling down in front of my bedroom window. They fade from purple to white, to pink as you go down their length. One flickers briefly and then goes back to being dim. That one always seems to be dim.

It used to be bright and brilliant, its glow matching the other strand. Its purple used to be a brilliant amethyst, the white like the snow. Now, however, the pink is dull, and dreary, just like the other colours.

The other strand is brilliant, and shines so brightly. It is firmly attached to the frame of my window, staying in place, posing like its picture is being taken. The dim one, however, is falling apart, the hooks supporting it hidden underneath several layers of tape. I’ve given up on some of the strands, as they hang limply, useless and dull, dull, dull.

I used to glow brightly, too. I used to enjoy playing games, I used to enjoy writing and singing, I used to laugh and dance. Now, I feel dull, dull, dull.

Perhaps I’m dim because I need a battery changed? Think of how silly it would be – all of these feelings, held back by one useless battery. Perhaps one light is broken, ruining the rest? Would I be able to fix it?

What scares me, however, is that my strand of lights might not be able to be fixed. What if its soft, dying light is permanent? What if they never stop flickering, and continue to struggle to produce its soft glow until it finally gives up and dies? Would I be thrown away? Tossed aside, discarded without a thought except for a note to replace me?

I turn off my lights, and roll over to go to sleep.