Seeing in the dark.

My mood is black, like the ink inside an unused well.

Just under the surface it sits, blooming instantly like an ugly flower at the unplanned sight of your unaffected smile.

It gets the best of me most of the time, though there is a razor thin line of light, the mystery glow behind a seamless door, I have been struggling to find.

I rub my eyes and place a careful hand on a dark wall, pacing the black for some abberation. A crack. A handle. A hinge.

I still haven't found it.

But I'm getting closer.

I can feel it.