I remember as a child, going into the closet with the lights off and closing the door. It was so dark in there that, no matter how my eyes strained and my pupils stretched, there were no shapes and shadows, just pure, suffocating blackness enveloping my face.
There in the pitch I would wave my hand in front of my face to see if I was still real, still there even. I felt around. My physical form had disappeared somewhere via some sort of teleportation or magic force. Shapes and time, the world and reality and logic were gone, and I felt swept away in the nothingness, floating into oblivion, like a lost astronaut drifting from the ship out into the unknown gravity of outerspace. Terror. My physical heart would thump loudly and my breath would quicken as I wildly reached out my invisible hand to touch the invisible string that would save me from non-existance.
And when the light finally came on, and there I was, amid shirts and shoes, coats and purses, I realized that what really mattered had been there all along.
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