Dark and Quiet

Have you ever sat in a dark, quiet room? What goes on in your head? Are you at peace? Do you feel calm and relaxed, or do you feel scared, helpless, and terribly alone? Do you feel as if the monsters in your dreams are suddenly real and present? Do you feel as if the world is crashing around you, and all you can do is sit as the room encloses and shrinks?

I feel as if I'm never alone. Kinda like I'm in the book 1984 by George Orwell, always being watched and monitored. Always. I can't sit on my bed at night without thinking, "Will it be okay to turn out the lights? Maybe tonight will be different..."

No, I'm not afraid of the dark, in fact, I love it. It hides our flaws in it's surrounding black curtains, keeping our little imperfections, our little embarrassments in a box that no eye can penetrate. I am, however, afraid of my thoughts. My own imagination frightens me. Sometimes I'll go to bed and be alright, but then as I lay down, my thoughts go rampant. Thoughts of death, questions without answers, and things happening that only happen in horror movies. My dreams as a little kid were along the lines of my house burning down as I'm watching my cousin drink gasoline in the garage. I had nightmares of my parents being werewolves folding clothes on our couch, and me awaking to them telling me that lunch would be ready soon. All of my dreams were unpleasant, morbid tales of grief and despair that usually left me waking to shocked to even utter a scream or even a word. Then suddenly, at about 15 years old, the dreams stopped. I could sleep all night, and not wake up gasping for air. It was as if someone had felt that I had deserved a break from the relentless dreams.

As I'm typing this, I'm sitting in a dark room with all of my fears and nightmares surrounding me. The zombies are under the bed and in my closet waiting for the right time to attack and gorge on my flesh. The ghosts and spirits are reading this blog as I'm typing it from the bedpost above my head. The cameras put up by Big Brother are swiveling and alerting the Thought Police of my crimes of free speech. Here I sit anyways, with all of my thoughts. I continue to sit in the pitch, continue to be wrapped in the curtains of the darkness. I'd rather sit here in the dark, than have to face all of my thoughts in the light.