Blindness

With a blank white ceiling comes a different story every single night. When things are too plain in front of me, the colors start stirring in my head and form an image of some sort of blissful perfection. Sometime in January, this time. Maybe in February. Months seem to decide. On the other hand, I don’t mind the blindness of it. The unknown tends to scare people, but I take it like a child who knows the tooth fairy has a bag full of money to deliver. There’s a thrill in it, a passion of its own. An addiction. A memory to last and save in a box of memories that made smiles seem like the only treasure I’d ever be looking for in my life. A treasure I seem to sacrifice my existence to find in ways only I would understand.
As I said: it’s an addiction. One I don’t intend to get rid of.
No… Not anytime soon.