Here in the Dark
Here in the Dark
Wake up. Cold.
Open your eyes. Dark.
Here in the dark, there are no stars. Here in the dark, there is only the icy embrace of emptiness and the looming shadows you can’t see.
Must be careful of the monsters. Always hiding here, in the dark. Watching, waiting. Waiting for you to fall asleep again. Waiting to sink their teeth into your flesh, tear your muscles and snap your bones, drink your warmth. Waiting to gouge out your eyes with their claws, leave you a shredded, bloody mess. Wanting to make you suffer.
But there aren’t any monsters, are there? You imagine the monsters so you have something real to fear, so you can pretend you aren’t alone, so you can pretend that something cares about you, even if it only cares about your flesh.
The only thing worse than having monsters under the bed is having nothing at all. The real terror isn’t the fangs of the monsters. It’s waking up, again and again, realizing you're still alive, still here. In the dark.
God, you wish for the monsters. You wish for their torture, wish you could feel something besides this horrible hole of meaninglessness, this vacancy of being.
There aren’t any monsters. There is only ever you.
Sit here in the dark.
Wait for the rescuer who won’t ever come.
Close your eyes.
Cold.
Dark.
Nothing.
Wake up.## TLDR Summary: