Some days it’s not so dark. Some days things are just fine. But then the darkness creeps in, slowly, until like the frog in the pot of water it’s pitch black and you’re boiling. It’s been like that recently – so very dark – and I don’t really know why. Sometimes I think it’s just that the whole ration of shit I’ve been dealt my whole life has finally reached critical mass and my brain simply cannot cope with it anymore, so it shuts down.
This is the worst it’s ever been. There’s a scratch mark on my arm. I’ll tell everyone “I must have scraped it on something,” but I know that it’s the safety pin I dragged across it in an effort to replace the pain I can’t control with a pain I can. I’ve never done that before. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’m not sure if I’ll do it again.
What I do know is that the light will come eventually. I’m just always afraid that the light will bring with it all the things I don’t WANT to see.
Is my darkness voluntary, perhaps? A coping mechanism because the light is too bright? Maybe we’ll figure it out somewhere along the way. For now, I’m seduced by it. Cuddled up in its oblivion. It’s warm in here – not boiling yet. I’ll stay awhile.