Indifference would be ideal. I care so much. I’m afraid of what I’m going to learn, and yet, I have to know. Somehow, I have to know. Who on earth said that ignorance was bliss? Ignorance is a horrible, greedy, speculative reverie. And knowledge is power? Knowledge brings nothing but bleakness, a sickening depression when your hopes are crushed. Ignorance is anxiety and knowledge is disappointment.
     But I’d like to know.
     How can I possibly move on unless I know? In ignorance there is still a spluttering candle of hope that refuses to hide its light unless it is completely extinguished.  Nothing but cold certainty will remove this glimmer of hope. Is it better to let this slight flame live?
     I want know.
     Because what if there is no hope? Will I be following this weak flame, my hopes centered, when all along it was just a hallucination? Isn’t it better if I lit a different, stronger candle of hope in my seemingly black world?
     I have to know.
     There’s so much light out there. I can tell. But I’m clutching to this one beam of uncertain light, hoping it will mingle with the larger lights. Somehow it’s pushed itself far beyond where I told it to stay. My vision has wildly lost perspective: even while surrounded by light, I see darkness. Darkness and this little flame.
     So I’d love to know.
     Am I following a dream that will never come true? Or will this dream merge with the wonders that surround me, and become fuller, more wonderful, and less focused?
     Why don’t I know?
     Will it consume the other lights, making everything brighter and clearer?
     Or will it give a final sputter, and die, never meant to be.