Sometimes The Darkness (Caution: Emo ahead.)

[Xepher]

Something I wrote the other night when I couldn't sleep. As much as I hate emo, I realize this definitely seems to qualify, and so I apologize in advance. Not quite sure why I'm posting it here, but it just somehow seemed incomplete if it was kept private. Take it as you will.


Sometimes The Darkness

Sometimes the darkness is all you have. The darkness and the fire. As night descends, the creature sleeps. You look in the mirror, with fright at the stranger staring back. This isn't you. This can't be your life. These things all pressing in upon you, they don't make sense. You don't know what you're doing here. You don't belong. Your life belongs to someone else, to some mask you once put on, but now can't take off. It's alive, this creature, this mask. It clings to your skin, and you claw and scrape at it until you bleed. Only in the darkness does it sleep. But exhausted as you are, you dare not join it, for fear that these precious moments of lucidity will pass you by. So you claw, and scream, and howl into the abyss, but no one hears. The mask, the puppet you've become, won't let you make much noise, for that might be impolite. Oh yes, it sleeps, but ever so lightly. You may rage against the walls, and pound upon the bed, tears may soak your pillow, and your sobs may fill the room, but the creature controls you still, and won't permit you to escape. You dream of running away, of forgoing all and escaping, but you never do. You never can. No. You wake up in the morning and you take a shower. You put on your clothes and you go about your day. You smile as people say hello, and answer "just fine" when they ask how you are. A small part of your soul screams, but the fascade is too strong, no one can hear you through the calm exterior. So the days and nights go by. Some night, one night, you can't take it any longer. You sit awake by the fire while the creature slumbers. Fire. Fire would free you. The mask you wear, the creature that consumes you as it becomes you, is made from nothing more than diplomas and contracts, licenses and tax returns, pay stubs and business cards, bank statements and electric bills. They all burn, and with them, the horrid creature in the mirror. One night you do it. You burn it all. You dance around the flames as ashes fill the sky. A primal rite of freedom in the modern world. You dance. You dance. You dance. You dance. You Dance. The beast inside awakes, and you open your eyes, and you open your eyes again. The world is alive. The sea is blue, the grass is green, and the moon shines bright across the night. You howl again into the abyss, and this time you are heard. Oh are you heard! Neighbors shudder in their lonesome apartments, workers cower in their cubicles, secretaries hide beneath their desks, and all over town, souls flicker as if in a breeze. As dawn comes, and your spirit charges off across the skies, the masks seem to fracture just a tiny bit more. Sometimes the darkness is all you have. But sometimes... Sometimes the darkness helps kindle the light.

[ren_pii]

We all write like this sometime in our life. But it's not that emo, I think... it has a bit of hope at the end.
Good job on writing this.