I haven’t posted in the last few days because, honestly, I didn’t know what to say. Nothing profound, nothing inspiring, not even a random rant about socks disappearing in the laundry. Just silence. A strange disconnection. And then, it hit me.
The reason for my funk has been staring me in the face,
or rather, not staring at me at all. It’s been cloudy here for months, and one day, I realized something was missing. Something vital. My shadow.
Yep, my shadow. Gone. Poof. No dramatic goodbye, no sticky note saying, “BRB, heading south for the sun.” Just me, standing in the yard like an unlit candle, noticing I had no shadow. I stepped back into the house after that. I couldn’t take it. Me and my shadow—we were always a package deal.
I mean, have you ever thought about what life would be like without your shadow? It’s unsettling, really. It’s like losing your sidekick, your silent partner in crime. My shadow was always there, tagging along like a loyal friend, occasionally stretching out dramatically at sunset or awkwardly clinging to my feet at noon. It wasn’t flashy or demanding; it just… was.
Now, without it, I feel alone. Like I’ve been ghosted by the one thing that truly understood me (literally). Every time I glance down and see only a blank sidewalk, it feels unreal. Unfinished. Where’s the sassy little outline that used to remind me of my existence?
And let’s talk about how weird it feels to navigate life shadowless. How do you measure a great moment if you can’t see your shadow doing that cool lean-back pose? How do you convince yourself you’re the main character when you don’t have your dramatic silhouette? How do you live without that little slice of darkness following you around?
But here’s the twist: Maybe this shadowless phase is telling me something. Maybe it’s a cosmic reminder that I need to stop depending on my shadow to prove I’m still here. Maybe the real work is finding connection within myself, even when it feels like the world is a foggy mess.
Or maybe I just need to buy a really bright lamp and stage my own shadow reunion. Dramatic lighting, heartfelt speeches, the whole nine yards.
So here I am, learning to live without my shadow, trying not to take it personally. Maybe one day soon, the clouds will part, and we’ll reunite. Until then, I’ll be here, shadowless but standing tall. (Well, maybe slightly slouched, it’s winter.)
Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to live without your shadow? Because trust me, it’s weirder than it sounds.