more and more i fear the night, the darkness, the darkness in
the night. it creeps in at my seams and latches on to the darkness in my head.
i become a trembling mess of tears and shakes and cigarettes smoked under
streetlights, greedy for illumination. i need to see the world to know it's
still there as it was. that there are no monsters under the bed.
i am terrified of The NeverEnding Story's Nothing and FernGully's Hexxus, that tar blob
of pollution that has no edges, no boundaries. i am afraid of spaces in the
dark and darkness in spaces and whether, in the dark, my feet will remain bound
to the earth or if i'll go flying off. sometimes i'm afraid i won't.
i wake before dawn in coils of sweat and fear and last remnants
of too many dreams and still there is not sun yet, still this endless clutching
dark. this morning i napped at 6h45 until 8, woke in fear that the warm light
splashed across my lap was not real, was fading into night again. let the alarm
go off for an hour before i could grasp hold of the day.
there's safety in sunlight and oranges and cereal and i am
afraid of dying in every myriad way. i am afraid of the four years of my life i
had apparently specifically not thought about until yesterday.four to eight.
when we lived in that apartment. i cannot remember the details of my bedroom,
forgot about my dad's office off the living room all together. that bathroom.
thinking of those years makes me feel dark, sticky. i am afraid of what might
be buried there. but there is that oedipus thing, that insatiable human
curiosity to know, and i am just as afraid
to not find out. maybe there's nothing there. maybe that's the Nothing i'm
afraid of, that there's nothing wrong with me and i was just born defective, a
badly cast doll to be cut in twain and used for spare parts. who would want my
parts, anyway? they are bruised and scarred. i am only made of sunlight and
when it fades i fade to ash.
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