Hello darkness, my old friend.
Darkness follows me like an old friend. Which is why I have no problem writing about it. Writing about the night skies and their equally dark rooms. When you spend a lot of time in dark rooms, you start having a deeper appreciation of low light and shadows. It’s a calming feeling in being alone with your thoughts. It’s when you open your heart to the shadows, and remind yourself of how much you have left of your journey. At this point I am not sure if my journey is beginning or ending. Or maybe I am still in the middle of this fork in the road, wondering which way to turn.
Its sitting in the dark that I wonder about many things. I replay thousands of conversations in my head. I go back and look at thousands of photographs and I can’t help but wonder. There are times I think I am being vocal about how I am feeling and reality is I am just hiding from the world. I seek comfort in this darkness that knows all my secrets. That hides my tears, sadness, and every inch of pain I am feeling. I am doing everything wrong and I know what I am doing. But hiding in this darkness keeps me from seeing everything that happens in the light. Maybe I am better off that way. Better off hiding from the world and the people that surround it. I am not doing anyone any favors and at this point I feel like the worst person in the world. When you think all your doing is being a hero and reality is you’ve always been the villain in disguise.
Lately I just want to cry about everything and hide from everyone. Hide in the shadows no matter how many times people ask me to play. It takes a big city full of millions of people to make your heart beat faster. To make yourself feel even more alone. You rely on the dark skies to bring you home. When it rains it pours, it brings out the clean slate you desperately scrub clean. I don’t have problem being alone but I hate feeling alone. Maybe it’s the sadness that makes you lonely. That has you looking out windows and praying for rain. Praying for something to take away all this pain. Surrounded by people you can’t help but wish they could bump right next to you and help you feel something, anything. Instead you avoid their glances and calculate your moves away from them. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe being alone is an overdramatic cry for help and settling is what I should be doing. Maybe I have gone through life doing things wrong and one day I’ll figure out how to fix this mess. Who knows. I just can’t help that when the sunsets enough, I am left in the dark. Others have found out how to turn the lights on but I am still adjusting to the lack of sun.