There are times when you think the world could just swallow you up forever. Or wish that it would. These times are filled with dark thoughts, and emotions that well up from the pit of your heart, and play in your head like some movie reel that goes in circles, replaying the same thing over, and over again.
These are dangerous times, when the world is a hopeless sea of misery, and all you wish for is for it to be over. Despair. Loss. Hopelessness, and helplessness. Why won't it end. I'd give anything for it to stop. the thoughts race around until your mind is frustrated and exhausted from trying to grab each emotion and feeling and look at it. All too soon you mind is a blur or thoughts and feelings, until you can't see anything, and all you are left with is numbness and a feeling of empty.
If you can cry, then the tears come now. Long, deep sobs of anguish and pain. The body is hurting with so many things that you don't know why you even cry. Curled in a ball on the ground, you wait for it to end. You crawl to the wall, and prop your forehead against your knees. The sobbing is on it's way out, leaving sniffles, and tears that still cling to your face and feel cold.
Everything feels cold. The room, your feet. You rub you hands to feel warmth, but the cold is on the inside, and hangs around like white mist in the last days of Autumn. There are no thoughts. There are no feelings and emotions. There is only a kind of waiting. a waiting for something to happen and bring you back from the depths that you have fallen into.
Night falls. You have been asleep for three hours, and the salty taste of tears still lingers on your lips. The rest of the house is quiet, though there is a sliver of golden light beneath the door that was shut and locked before the beast took hold of you and dragged you down.
You move. The light outside is grey and thin, and the mist is starting to gather in the hollows and low spots. The light in the room is receding fast, giving way to the darkness that quickly creeps from the shadows in the corner and under the bed. Darkness. You don't want it anymore, and yet you don't want light. The body and mind still linger in the shadows of apathy and unfeeling.
The golden glow of the lamp is more comforting than a room bathed in light from the ceiling. It keeps away the darkness, and gives the feeling of safety, more so because you can see the deep shadow like wolves prowling on the outside of a fire in the wilds. Fire. It's flickering dance, and comfortable warmth spark in your mind. Memories flit through you head for barely a moment. Kind memories. Safe memories.
Something stirs inside your body. Warmth. The slightest wavering flame that reminds you that it wasn't always dark and cold. Everything is starting to feel again. The room is no longer a prison that the world has doomed you to dwell in misery, but a haven. Feelings of safety, or at the very least, slight contentment.
You climb onto your bed, it's familiar groans and bumps are reassuring. Beneath the covers you feel tired, even though sleep had you for hour only moments ago. You leave the light on. The room is a tent and the lamp a fire. There is a knock from the door. A familiar voice, perhaps one belonging to a person that hours when in the grip of despair you would have blamed for your woes, now asks from behind the locked door if you are alright.
You're fine, you answer. Everything will be alright. You hope this satisfies the voice beyond the door, knowing full well that tomorrow may hold another attack by the black beast. For now though, the light is warm, and so are the blankets. Your eyes feel heavy, and for the second time today, sleep overtakes you.
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