Darkness.

It’s kind of soothing in the way that it conceals things.

Things said in a blurry, half-asleep haze.

Things that may never see the light of day.

Things that may not be understood or related to but heard nonetheless.

The dark keeps them hidden and warm and safe.

It’s like a blanket enveloping you and everything that goes into your mind or out of your mouth.

But then other times the darkness is like a lonely emptiness eating you whole.

The black silence just swallowing all the sounds that escape you.

It crashes over you in waves of loneliness and wariness.

The calming concealment twists and warps into a dizzying, disorienting haze of suspicion at not being able to see what’s lurking in the corners of your room.

On those days nothing helps you escape the fear and feelings of being truly alone.

Even when the sun comes up and illuminates the corners’ secrets you still feel the unsettling shivers creeping up your spine, like thousands of creepy eyes watching you.