I am in a tunnel with my sister and her friends. I am 14 years old, and we are bored. I’ve seen this tunnel before on one of my walks around the park near my house, water trickling out of it, dark and gloomy, my curiosity piqued, but I never dared to wander through it, though I always wanted to. I am excited when someone suggests it, and here we are, walking through it after checking if the coast is clear, it is.

There are six of us: me, my sister, her best friend, and three other friends who I’m not very close to, but I’ve seen them around school. They bring along three flashlights, and we break into groups of twos and threes, each holding a flashlight, and we walk slowly into the tunnel. It’s summer and hot, so there isn’t much water coming out of it, but we walk slightly to the side so our shoes don’t get wet. Soon, the light from the opening disappears. There is echo, it’s cool, and some of us are talking, which is comforting, here in the dark, except for the beams of our flashlights.

The path splits into two, one way much too small and the other barely wide enough for us. We decide to hang around the junction for a bit, talking about what teenagers tend to talk about, nothing in particular, before deciding to head back. I look into the darkness, and the darkness looks back at me. A shiver runs through me, fear of the unknown, and I tell myself that one day, I’m going to come back here and finish what I started, to continue this journey through the darkened tunnel of the unknown.

I never did

Although, sometimes, in later years, I would come back here alone and venture into the tunnel, just to the point where the light cuts off, and jerk off until I come, just for fun. I would look into the dark, and my imagination would go wild with all the monsters lurking in there, thanks to all the horror movies I grew up with.

I have a favourite quote from Avatar: The Last Airbender that goes something like this: “Sometimes life is like this dark tunnel. You can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving, you will come to a better place.” I think about how true this is to our lives. Sometimes it feels like we are walking in darkness, not knowing where life is taking us, but that’s part of the process of living—facing the unknown, which is what makes it special. Sometimes, it’s all about taking one day at a time, at your own pace.

For me, it’s not about blindly believing that everything will get better if I just keep walking, but about trusting in the act of moving forward itself. Even when the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t visible, I have this quiet sense that the act of continuing—step by step—will bring me somewhere I’m meant to be. It’s not about guarantees, but about faith in the process, faith in myself. That’s how I choose to make peace with the darkness, by embracing it as part of the journey.