Tenebrosity

The artificial light streaming from my computer screen is never enough to illuminate the darkness that night brings. No matter how many globes I switch on, the sun has still disappeared past the horizon. Even the city lights aren’t bright enough to completely rid the sky of stars. I used to be so grateful for the sparse twinkling lights that could overpower our light pollution. They seemed like symbols of hope in a dark, hopeless night, but so much has changed since then. What used to be my escape has now become the thing I fear most, and it is something I cannot out run. Darkness.

Night no longer holds the simplistic human fear of the unknown for me. Because it is not as much that it is void that scares me, as much as it is a ‘thing’ in itself. Darkness no longer feels empty, instead like a pitch-black shroud of something that clings to my fleeting happy memories. I know that it may seem melodramatic or just phobic, but I’ll try my best to explain my reality. A reality which -regardless of being brought on by the absence of light or just the duration of time that my brain has spent awake- is waiting for me each night.

Tonight is like any other night, void of understandable triggers or explanation. Yet still I feel over come by this disgust. The girl who once basked in the angelic glow of the stars, now feels nauseous at the thought of them. All is takes is a spark of fear (or a distasteful memory) to let forth this flood of grime. The night sky now holds the same effect. I am unsure if I can explain this feeling to those who have not experienced it, but maybe I’m too caught up in it to be objective. It is as though even the deepest parts of my soul are covered in filth (a culmination of negative thoughts, feelings and memories). I would parallel it to the thick, dark ash that will cover every surface after a fire. It has the ability to stick to anything no matter how hard you scrub. Instead of covering tables and chairs, this darkness sticks to my memories and my inner body. In the way that I feel dirt under my skin and within my heart. It once again leaves me with not only the feeling of disgust, but the inescapable feeling of worthlessness.

I suppose I have changed my mind, it may in fact be both melodramatic and phobic, but that doesn’t make it less of a reality.

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