I stared at her for the longest time. I dared her to move. The Autumn wind was making the hairs tickle the back of my neck, but this was no laughing matter. I wanted to walk in the sun again.
This was a war between the dark follower and I. I called out for help, but no one came to my aide. I emerged from my home one sunny day and began to walk my chosen path. I glanced down with the hopes that she was no longer there. Her presence was solid and profound. I could see her feet pacing so close that my pulse began to quicken. I began to run to create distance, but she was something I couldn’t escape and she wanted me to know it.
I continued to run despite feeling my efforts were wasted. Just when I was beginning to feel my legs give in to exertion, I saw my escape: a dark alley shaded by the apartment complex that towered over it. Darkness. This always stops her. I ducked into the shade and watched her vanish from behind me immediately. This was the first time I realized I would never be free from her. She is the dark follower, forever connected to the light that makes me shine. She is the darkness that never blocks the light, never makes a sound. My friend and my enemy.
I first noticed her the night I tried on my new jeans. In the mirror, they fit great and hugged my curves in all the right places. After many twirls and spins in the mirror, I felt desirable. I felt beautiful. Then I saw her. The wide, dark, bulky blotch of darkness standing behind me, laughing at my bliss. The desirable feeling I had vanished and my smile began to fade. I acknowledged this was a silly thought and thanked her for showing me how silly such thoughts were. For years she would show me which outfits worked best for me. If I started to buy a two piece bikini, she was always there to remind me that someone with my body type would be more comfortable in a one piece.
Then one day, just when she had her dark hands wrapped around my throat, I remembered how much she hated being touched. I reach out and allow my hand to touch her arm. She dissolves and I’m left holding my own arm. I look behind me and she’s there. Only this time she remains my shadow.
I put the dark follower in her place and told her I am to lead while she is to follow. No longer will the shape of her bulky figure reflect who I truly am. Dear Dark Follower, sometimes the darkness is conquered not by the light, but by the mind.
