Shadows of difference: 2. Unseen Shadows
This… this is what's left of my story. A chronicle of shadows, the kind that stretch and writhe just beyond the periphery. They were always there, like a stain you can't scrub clean. A mask, smooth and polished, hid the rot beneath. I walked in darkness for a long time, surrounded by things that whispered in the spaces between breaths, things that the world, in its blissful ignorance, never saw. A silent scream, swallowed by the din of the everyday. It wasn't the loneliness of miles, but the loneliness of being unseen, a phantom limb aching for a touch that would never come. Unseen Shadows… it’s a glimpse into that other place, those times when I was less than a shadow, a void staring back at the world, unseen, untouched, unacknowledged. Like a bad dream you can't quite shake off.
But this story will be quiet no more. It's time to speak your killers' shame.
My youth was fire, a wild, external and untamed blaze, Then inner demons clawed in shadowed haze. Unseen battles, none of your damn concern, I rise (un?)-broken, lessons fiercely learned.
The figure in the artwork is me—not the child I was, nor the older version of myself today, but the in-between me. It’s that part of me that exists in the space between who I was and who I’m still becoming, caught in the struggle of trying to be seen. So much of my life has been spent trying to explain the weight of the battles I carry, trying to show the world the struggles that are invisible to most, only to be met with silence, or worse, indifference. The in-between me is still waiting to be recognized, still fighting to make sense of a world that often refuses to see the pain beneath the surface.
So cast your stones, your judgments sharp and cold, Your nasty projections, stories to be told Of your own darkness, mirrored back at you, While I run wild, a spirit tearing through.
I’ve walked through life like a ghost, walking the edges of conversations, of opportunities, of friendships. The shadows surrounding me in this piece are not just abstract forms—they are the judgment, the stigma, and the fear that have been cast upon me. They represent the unspoken thoughts that linger in the air, the things people don’t say aloud but that still manage to cut through, keeping me at arm’s length.
A ghost among the living, I tread // On edges of words left unsaid // Shadows of judgment, a silent sting // Keep me at bay, a lonely thing.
Most of you live in a fool's paradise. For so long, I was silent, unable to give voice to the darkness within. But this art… this is the beginning of the breaking. The faint glimmers… they are the proof that even in the deepest night, a spark remains.
Unseen Shadows. Bah! They think… they think because their eyes can't grasp the struggle, it ceases to exist? Fools! The darkness… it’s not just there… it’s in here (taps head). It breathes. I can feel it. Feel it knowing me. (Whispers) The shadows… they whisper… my name. A chorus. (Starts humming a discordant tune) Only I can hear. The silence… oh, the silence… that's where they plot. (Looks over shoulder nervously) Waiting… always waiting. But I'm here. (Stands rigidly, eyes wide) Always… always been here. Even when their blind, blind eyes couldn't… perceive… (trails off, muttering). I am the twitch in their vision, the buzz in their ears. The unseen hand… (a sudden, jerky movement) that stirs their nightmares. Yes… yes… (a slow, unsettling smile spreads across their face).
