The bright fluorescent light might have hurt your eyes if you weren't so determined to turn it into a symbol. Maybe you are too engrossed in writing if you create symbolism out of every little thing, but honestly you don't care. The bright light shoves out the dark mist that has been threatening you. It isn't a light that someone turned on for you; it isn't a light that you turned on in your soul to evade the darkness; it is merely a symbol.

You know that the cold grip fear has on you will not be easily gotten rid of. You don't even try to pretend that the light will banish it; you have lived in denial long enough.

"And then we're gonna tell him the story…I can't wait to hear his reaction."

"Well that will surely brighten his day."

You hear the entire conversation, but for some reason these words stick with you. You stare straight at the fluorescent light bulb and repeat the words over and over to yourself. You want to be able to brighten someone's day to. You want to become a light bulb. You don't necessarily have to fix everything; you just have to brighten up their day.

"What are you staring at?"

The words bring you back to this moment in time: you're sitting with the two people you care for more than anything in the world. You look at their smiling faces and you feel your own lips curl up into a smile. It's a small smile, but it is full of happiness. You can feel the happiness in the way your neglected muscles stretch and their eyes brighten.

"I'm just staring at the light bulb."

"That's not good for your eyes."

You agree that it isn't good for your already weak eyes, but it may be perfect for your already weak soul.