The Night

I don't like the night.


1. The Night

I don't like the night. 

I don't like how dark it is. 

Dark enough to eat you up, swallow you whole. 

Dark enough that all your deepest, darkest nightmares might just exist, somewhere in the murky blackness. 

Dark enough that you are completely alone with no one to guide you; you drift alone through the dark on a wave of fear and sadness.

I don't like falling asleep. 

I don't like having to give up the day, give in to unconsciousness.

Powerless as I am to stay awake forever. 

Powerless as I am to never miss a single moment of a single day of my life. 

I don't like giving up. 

I don't want to give up.

I don't want to give up, but the night has some immeasurable power over me, a feeble human. 

I don't like falling asleep when the night comes.

I don't like knowing that everything I've ever hoped and dreamed and feared and lost and found is all mixing, mingling, swirling around me in my unconscious state.

I don't like being alone when the night comes.

When I'm alone, I can't block my thoughts out, can't stop myself thinking about everything dark and sad and twisted and terrible this world, my world, has to offer.

I can't stop the thoughts rushing down on top of me suddenly, cascading over my head; my mind; my shoulders; my chest; my heart; my stomach; my hips; my thighs; my shins; and finally, my toes.

I can't stop the thoughts encasing me; building me my own personal tower of sadness and destruction. 

I can't block out the thoughts.

And I don't like the way the night takes everyone I love from me, one by one, taking them all high above (or deep below) the earth, until there's no one left but me.

All alone.

Just me. 

On my own. 

In the night. 

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