weepingwillow

I no longer understand being afraid of the dark.

The dark is where all the bad things are hidden safely away.

Those seeking the light stay away from the dark, in which my soul finds it's comfort, and torment. Fear and torment are good friends but nothing alike.

I can imagine there are many things that would terrify me if I could see them in the light.

However, as they dwell here with me I am not afraid. I can't see them and they can't see me.
In reality, we those of us who dwell here, are just scared of what we do not want to see. Ourselves, reality... Maybe

We dance together here alone in the dark.

There is no love but for the love of the dark – there is no hate but for the hate of the dark There is only this black existence, and the long walk to find a ladder to the light.

This black and suffocating space that keeps us safe. That lets us wait.

The waiting never sleeps.

I wish I knew what I was waiting for.

Waiting for someone to come.

Waiting for someone to go.

Waiting for a brain to heal from a wound that breeds cancer which feeds on the dark.

So here I stay. Put in my place. No more ladders to the light for me.

What becomes of me when I am consumed completely?

Maybe that's when I get to sleep.