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As the lamps turn off, the light in my eyes struggle to stay alive, they struggle to persist, they struggle to exist. Futile attempts, they fade away. They always do. The lights are beautiful, they keep me company, but as darkness envelopes me in the dead of night, no matter how strong they were, no matter how bright they shone, once darkness comes theyd fade into a flurry of blue and green, blinding for a second, and then theyre gone. So what if they shone for me, theyre not here now. So what if they showed me the way these beautiful things, where are they now? Not here. And when they stop trying to exist, the darkness sets it. This darkness, its a curious thing. It is the embodiment of loneliness; it takes everything away. It is the embodiment of restlessness; the silence is deafening. It is blanket wrapped over you, suffocating, constricting, choking. It is a thick scentless smog, it gets into your bones, your flesh, your heart. Yes, darkness is curious. Hear it’s silent cries, echoing my own. Feel it’s longing gaze, it wants to devour me. It wants to own me. Reaching out, i grab it and feel it’s form. It accepts me. It’s all right, I know how it feels. I’ll be here for you. I’ll be by your side. Even loneliness needs a friend sometimes.
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