The Roots of All Evil


Sunnyby Lee Ann “Sunny” Brown       

Photo by Billy Brown

 

These are dark and threatening times. And I don’t like it. I am afraid of the dark. You know me—I like to keep things sunny. The truth is in the light. You’ve been told to walk on the sunny side of the street. I believe in this. I feel better when it’s light. The darkness makes me feel bad. I don’t believe what it implies. We can choose to believe the darkness and its lies, or we can embrace the light and believe that is our truth. I go for the light, every five weeks.

You must be vigilant about keeping things in the light. The darkness will sneak up on you and overshadow what you know to be true, causing you to doubt yourself. Just as on a lovely summer afternoon an angry rain cloud suddenly appears and casts ugly shadows threatening a thunderstorm, so, too, does the darkness, the roots of evil, threaten to take over and spoil your good mood.

You can’t even identify it in the beginning. It starts off as just an out-of-sorts feeling, like something seems not quite right. You can’t actually see it…yet. Like coming down with a cold, it’s just an ominous feeling. Like an unseen virus, the darkness lurks just below the surface, waiting for the right opportunity to rise up and make its presence known. It grows and grows with each passing day, casting long shadows of unease across the face, until one morning, you wake up and it’s there—and you let out an audible gasp! A dark and gloomy pall is spread all around you.

It sends me into a depressed state, plunging me into a dark place that turns into a full-on bout of anger, denial, and irritation. I growl and rumble underneath my breath like an oncoming storm, irritated with everything and everybody. My sunny disposition is gone. I am no longer walking in a glow of light and truth; in its place is a a black, foul mood that overtakes my thoughts. I am not myself. It’s like my dark side appears, my evil older twin, and I am on my worst behavior. I become the Darkness. Nothing seems to help—no amount of make-up, or extra smiling, or well-meaning compliments, not even better lighting. And when the darkness hits, it always turns out that I have nothing to wear. Nothing looks good with a bad mood.

I don’t like this side of myself. The darkness I’m talking about is not natural, nothing like a brunette has. This is something completely unnatural, and, in fact, it has a supernatural effect on my personality, turning me into what some might describe as a…witch. But I refuse to give in to this dark side of myself. I fight it every chance I get. I fight for the beauty and truth of the light. I fight to keep that imposter cloaked in a veil of sunny blonde before she casts her evil darkness like clockwork every four weeks. Every time I see the shadowy darkness creeping in, I run for cover. I go into hiding, trying not to notice it, pretending it’s not there, not wanting to see the truth. I try to pretend that I am the same, ol’ happy Sunny, but we both know that I am just faking it.

My roots laugh at my pretense, at me hiding under the disguise of a hat or scarf, trying to stop the lies from spreading. They threaten to betray what I choose to believe about myself—my truth. I blame them for my despair; they are the roots of all evil. There is a price to be paid for this darkness, and it is a much higher price to bear than what I pay to have it lifted.

There is only one true cure, one way to banish the darkness completely. There is only one person whom I will see, whom I trust completely. She goes by the code name “my hairdresser,” and she knows my dark evil twin intimately. She knows that light is her weakness, and she  is the only one who can bring back my light-filled, sunny, blonde days and nights and banish the darkness permanently. Or, at least, for the next five weeks.

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