Years later, I find myself thinking about that well, the one where I was stuck for a while in my life. I didn’t climb into it willingly, but one day, I just found myself there.
At first, I was terrified of the darkness. No matter which way I turned, after a few steps, my hands met the cold wall of the well. It was buried so deep in the earth that day and night looked the same, endless, like space.
Being down there felt isolating, as if the world above had forgotten I existed. The silence was suffocating, and the darkness pressed in on me, like the well itself was trying to swallow me whole.
But something strange happened. Even though it was still dark during the day, at night I could see the stars — tiny, flickering pieces of peace. I spent my time imagining people around me because there was nothing else to do. But they always felt far away. I could only hear their hollow voices, echoing faintly. And the strangest part? I started to feel comfortable there — almost peaceful in that emptiness.
Until one day, something shifted. I got a grip on myself and decided to climb out. And I was stunned that I hadn’t thought of it sooner. Why didn’t I? Maybe because I kept hoping someone would show up, call my name from above, ask how I was. But no one did.
So, when I finally decided to leave, I looked around — and found a rope. It had been there the whole time. How could I not have seen it? When I finally climbed out, something was different. Maybe the world had changed. Or maybe I had. Either way, after that day, nothing ever felt quite the same again.
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