turn

I seem to keep coming back when darkness hits me from the inside. I thought it gone, vanished, pulverized into tranquility... but no, it's here, banging on the inside in my chest asking to be let out. And I'm scared, terrified that once out I'll never be able to contain, fold it to the back of mind, conceal its shadows. I'm scared that I'll pick on my oldest wounds, remind my body about the thousand knives that are to come. I'm scared that once out me, the me I came to like, the me that allowed to smile even a little bit under the bandages that kept me nicely intact, the me that fought - I'm scared it will die, slowly transforming into dust.

I have darkness in me. The type of darkness you usually take to therapy has nested inside of me, its teeth of insecurities biting on my rib cage, acid tornadoes of 'maybe's and 'perhaps's wrecking the quiet settlements of my brains. This darkness forces my eyes down on the tip of my shoes and my apologies out from the tip of my tongue. This darkness chases me into complete silence, close on the right to the Oblivion. And falling is only a matter of time...

Maybe you've been there or maybe you're still there, lingering, pacing around it's edges... how did you survive your darkness? Here it's raining and light it's fading away while the number of stretched out hands gets smaller as I am forced to acknowledge the depths of this darkness, laughing back at myself while I keep silent on the outside. How do you keep yourself safe, away from falling? Is alone enough for survival? Can my fingers hold tight on the edge and not let go of them? Can I trust them and not give into temptation to just... let go?

Tell me, you who have been there, can I dress up the holes on the inside and shush down the wind that's howling... can you hear it? A deafening hiss of silence, like an invisible serpent that's in there, entwining himself around my heart and the darkness that can't wait to take over. Can I paint them over and pretend it's skin, as if I'm normal, not wounded or bleeding, not bearing old scares on my mind? Or maybe I could just empty my entire body of blood and turn into a cadaver with sparkling eyes and a smile that says "Don't mind me, everything's just fine."

I don't think you know either, how to keep on breathing when silence is so deafening, when the war itself is tired of fighting, when alone is all you have... because alone is all you have. You can surround yourself with all the humans on the planet and they can all love you strongly, deeply, 'cause you'd still be alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. It's a dramatic word, but at least it can't let you down, it doesn't give up on you when darkness pulls you under.

Maybe giving in, going under and drowning is the best my conservation instinct can come up to. If so, who am I to say no to? Drowning would still be a better exit from this scene than listening to all the raindrops falling over me while holding on the edge... yes, drowning should be warm.

And if I end up turning to the darkness, please forgive me for I'll no longer be me.