As Soon the Lights Went Out

By: ArcRomero

Graphics by: Cassius Klai C. Francisco

Late at night, when the world is finally quiet,

the weight of missed chances settles on my chest—

a slow-burn ache, like a bulb dying after years of strain,

fading into a darkness I never thought I’d face.

It’s strange how my mind wanders.

Everytime the glow disappears,

I began digging through the abyss of memories I once tried to bury—

the moments when I should’ve believed I mattered more.

Gone is the warmth I once saw and followed.

The steady promise of direction,

Is now lost in the smoke of choices that cannot be undone,

chasing echoes of a future that slipped away from my own hands.

Haunting—this is what silence becomes,

whispering in tones only sleepless souls can hear,

a question that claws its way through every night:

What if the light continued to burn?

Then the shadows grow familiar,

shaping themselves into versions of myself—

brighter, steadier, kinder—

the selves that lived in a world where I never dimmed.

Over and over, the thought loops,

circling my mind like a moth trapped in a room,

searching for a light that no longer exists,

yet refusing to stop beating its fragile wings.

For every dream abandoned,

a new darkness blooms—

quiet but heavy,

a reminder of the doors I never opened.

Finally, I close my eyes,

not to rest, but to retreat.

And even as sleep drags me under, I know the night will return,

bringing with it the same relentless question:

What could’ve happened if my light never went out?