“We Were Lanterns in a World That Preferred Darkness”

We Were Lanterns in a World That Preferred Darkness

By [Ali Rehman]

Some people are born with light inside them — not the loud kind, not the kind that blinds or burns.

A quieter light.

A trembling flame that knows gentleness, empathy, and the rare ache of understanding.

We were those people.

We carried lanterns in our chests, our ribs the handles, our hearts the flickering glow. Some of us learned to hide it.

Some of us covered it with laughter.

Some of us dimmed it because the world had already warned us:

“Don’t shine too much.”

“Don’t feel too deeply.”

“Don’t care so loudly.”

But light, real light, is stubborn.

It spills through cracks.

It leaks out through kindness.

It glows even in shaking hands.

I. The Beginning of Brightness

We were children when the world first noticed.

The teachers said we were “too sensitive,”

the adults said we were “too good for our own good,”

and our own peers didn’t know what to do with people who apologized even when someone else stepped on our foot.

We sensed emotions before words.

We knew when someone was hurting even when their face was still smiling.

We stayed awake thinking about things everyone else seemed to forget in minutes.

That was how we learned what the world truly wanted:

Not lanterns.

Not brightness.

Not truth.

But shadows.

People of darkness prefer others who do not question, who do not heal, who do not illuminate their wounds.

Light makes them uncomfortable.

And so they tried to snuff ours.

II. The Cost of Being Bright

Being a lantern in a dark world is not beautiful.

It is exhausting.

Because light attracts two things:

those who seek warmth

and those who seek to extinguish it.

We learned this painfully.

Friends told us we were "too much."

Lovers took our light but offered none back.

Strangers came to us only when their world fell apart, leaving us colder once they had rebuilt theirs.

And when we needed help?

They flinched at our dimness,

ashamed to see us flicker.

The truth was simple:

Everyone loved the light —

but no one loved the lantern.

We carried people’s sadness like it was our inheritance.

We absorbed storms like they were invitations.

We kept shining even when we were cracked, drained, and trembling.

No one told us that glowing hurts.

No one warned us that compassion has weight.

We learned it alone.

III. The Night We Nearly Went Out

Every lantern has a breaking point.

There came a night — there always does — when we felt our light sputter.

When a thousand tiny betrayals suddenly weighed as much as mountains.

When our softness felt like a wound rather than a gift.

We sat alone in our rooms, watching shadows in the corners and thinking:

Maybe the world doesn’t want our light.

Maybe it never did.

We almost let the flame die.

Almost.

Almost.

Because even then, even in our dimmest moment, we noticed something moving in the dark.

Not a monster.

Not a threat.

Another lantern.

Their glow was faint, trembling, like ours — but real.

We recognized each other instantly.

Lanterns always do.

IV. Lanterns Find Lanterns

We were never meant to be alone.

The world may prefer darkness, may celebrate hardness, may reward cruelty —

but there are others like us.

Others who care deeply, feel deeply, love deeply.

Others who still shine, even when it costs them something.

And when lanterns find lanterns, something extraordinary happens:

Their lights do not compete.

They multiply.

Brightness becomes gentler.

Shadows become softer.

The world — even if it prefers darkness — begins to shimmer at the edges.

We sat together that night, our lights small but steady, and realized:

Maybe the world doesn’t need us to be suns.

Maybe it only needs us to be lanterns who refuse to go out.

V. The Quiet Truth of Light

We did not choose to shine.

The light chose us.

It came from every heartbreak we survived,

every kindness we gave without being asked,

every moment we chose gentleness instead of anger.

And yes — the world may prefer darkness.

It may honor strength over softness,

noise over silence,

shadows over truth.

But lanterns were never meant to please the world.

We were meant to change it.

One warm glow at a time.

Moral:

True light doesn’t always come from brightness — it comes from bravery.

And the bravest people are those who keep shining even when the world tries to dim them.