Embracing the Shadows

Mimmi’s room sat in the back corner of a bright house nestled on the edge of a bustling town. The world outside brimmed with bright colours and the sounds of sweet delights. Mimmi, however, found comfort in the shadows, the darker, quieter shades of life. She was a quiet soul, drawn to the soft whispers of rain, the quiet glow of the moon, and the stillness of the night. Mimmi’s room was her sanctuary. The dark, heavy curtains kept the sun at bay, drawing long shadows over a scattering of worn leather-bound books and little raven trinkets she’d collected over the years.

Mimmi’s parents, however, couldn’t understand why their daughter was so different. They were joyful people, always laughing, filling the house with vibrant decorations and bouncing melodies. They tried to bring Mimmi into their world, hoping to brighten her mood. "Why don’t you wear something with a splash of colour today, dear?" her mother would say, holding up a sunny yellow dress. Mimmi squished her face as though that dress were a sour lemon, shaking her head and retreating to the comfort of her favourite black hoodie.

As Mimmi grew older, the gap between her and her parents widened. They tried everything to cheer her up. Her mother signed her up for dance classes, where she was surrounded by sparkles and tulle, twirling in time with cheerful music. But Mimmi’s feet dragged and her shoulders slumped forward, the forced smiles becoming an unbearably heavy weight on her head.

Her father tried to get her involved in his gardening, planting rows of bright flowers and watching them stand to attention in front of the sun. But Mimmi would sit quietly, patiently, waiting for the sun to surrender to the night. Under the dimming light, her hands gently tend to the shadowy corners of the garden where the dark purple flowers finally rested their heavy heads.

Still, her parents didn’t give up. The house was always boisterous with the gatherings of family and friends. Surely the intoxicating sounds and energy would spark something in Mimmi. But each time, she politely retreated to her room, letting the door close softly behind her. Quiet. Solace. Her parents thought she was isolating herself, but Mimmi felt at peace in her darkened room, curled up with a book or sketching in her journal.

The constant pressure to change left Mimmi exhausted. She fought back as best as she could. “Why can’t you accept me as I am?” she would shout when the arguments became too much. But her parents couldn’t see past their own fears. They loved her so deeply, but they couldn’t understand that happiness didn’t always come in bright colours.

“I’m not sad,” Mimmi would say when they looked at her with worried eyes. “I just like different things.”

It wasn’t until a rainy afternoon, after another argument about Mimmi’s dark clothes, that everything changed. Her mother stood in the doorway of Mimmi’s room, watching her daughter as she sat on the floor, sketching. For the first time, she really looked at the drawings, the intricate designs of ravens and night skies, of dark forests and shadowy castles. They were beautiful.

“Mimmi,” her mother whispered as she softly stepping into the room. “You really love this, don’t you?”

Mimmi nodded slowly, unsure of where the conversation was going. Her mother sat down next to her, looking around at the dark, comforting space. “I’ve been trying to pull you out of this world because I thought it was making you sad. But I see now that it’s where you feel most at home.”

For the first time, her mother didn’t try to change anything. She just sat there, accepting the darkness that Mimmi loved so much.

After that, her parents began to let go of their need to “fix” Mimmi. They started to appreciate her world. Her father even helped her plant a small patch of night-blooming flowers, which glowed pale in the moonlight, just like she liked. Her mother stopped trying to dress her in bright clothes and instead bought her a beautiful black velvet coat that Mimmi adored.

Slowly, the tension in the house faded. Mimmi still loved the dark, still found peace in the shadows, but now she felt lighter. She didn’t have to fight anymore. Her parents finally saw her—not as someone who needed to be changed, but as someone who was whole just as she was.

And in that acceptance, Mimmi found a new kind of happiness. Not the bright, bubbly joy her parents had always wanted for her, but a deep, quiet contentment. She was still drawn to the night, to the whispers of the wind and the glow of the stars, but now, she was free to be herself.

Mimmi wasn’t broken at all. She just saw the world differently. And for the first time, her heart felt full.