I would much rather lurk in the shadows than dance in the light. You are cheapened with each set of eyes that judge, envy, admire. Enough light will merely turn you into a pyre of broken dreams and desperate wishes. No. This is not for me.
I will be cultivated by the cold dark upon my skin, sustained by that which shrouds me all the more. And when I go into the light… there will be none left. You won’t see me, but you will feel when I close in around you. Just too mesmerized by the dancer in the light to save your soul.