Gloom and Bloom

Gloom. Bloom. Heads. Tails. Opposite sides of a coin that can never see each other. Never influence each other. Never even know that each other exists?…

and yet, eternally standing back to back, they can feel each other. Gloom aches for Bloom to lift its existence, but cannot see it anywhere. Bloom yearns to spread its hope into Gloom’s heart, but cannot find it at all.

So Gloom sat in the bathroom one morning, at 5am, in its burdensome bubble. Oblivious, impervious, impenetrable by Bloom’s early morning rays, which powered through the translucent glass, carried by Spring’s first bird song. Bloom searched for those in need of its warmth but Gloom’s dark bubble let no-one in. Or out.

Light was just a memory - or maybe a fiction: Gloom could no longer remember the difference.

Bloom busily beamed outside the bubble. It gifted gold to the grateful ground, scattered freckles of glistening joy across the water, and garnished everything in its path with glee.

Gloom, perhaps in self-punishment, decided to do its least favourite thing. It shuffled, hunched and heavy, towards the mirror, sighed, and looked in. Darkness swirled. Self-loathing arrived and made itself comfortable. Destructive doubt descended on the scene too, furiously flitting around and piercing every thought it heard, like a trapped wasp desperate to unload its venom. The bubble wall thickened…

but Bloom saw its chance. Bloom fears nothing. With all its might, it shone upon the walls and door behind Gloom, layering its light over the sullen shadows. It reflected off the door’s handle, splashing its sparkles over the cloudy greys. It danced into the smooth surface of the mirror and, slowly but surely, Bloom filled the scene into which Gloom stared. Hues of happiness washed into Gloom’s vision like a gentle, fresh wave repeatedly claiming and covering the harsh, sandy terrain.

Gloom squinted. Gloom opened itself, stretching its bubble to enable alternative possibility to ease inside. The demons of darkness and despair struggled and began to lose their grip, as Gloom’s long-term squatters no longer felt welcome and unchallenged.

They lingered, of course - battles worth fighting aren’t won in a day - but finally, in self-reflection, Gloom could actually see Bloom…

and it was completely and utterly beautiful.

Bloom is ever-present - if you can look for it. Allow it. Gloom learned it was knocking on its bubble the whole time.

Bloom is everywhere… always.