When I was younger, just a child. I remember someone telling me that humans emanate the slightest light off the surface of their skin. At the time, my grandmother would take me with her to church to learn about the ways of god, his angels, and the devil and his demons. They spoke of how not a single soul could look at god dead on, that even the holy angels would be blinded from the pure evanescence. And at night when I would lay down, I would pretend that I wasn't so bad if I glowed, even if it wasn't as bright as god itself.
But as I grew older I made discoveries, that the blind once walked among the bright, but now have no choice but to stoop to the shadows. Losing themselves.  No one would let themselves shine. Humanity was stuck in a place I came to think of as hell, and heaven was deep underneath the layers of shadows and cracks. That god was buried within this concrete, under the soles of my shoes, and that the devil laid in the darkest corner of my pupils, and I came to recall that the devil is beautiful and bright too.