My True Hell

A small, insignificant description of my own personal hell-hole.

My own personal hell, you ask?

I wouldn't know.

You expect me to say something so horrible, sad, and cheesy. That I couldn't live without my future love, or my best friend that I've had since kindergarten.  

No, even though that is partially true. 

I don't like darkness.

Call it a petty, childhood fear that boiled up inside me since I was five. But it truthfully scares me. A dark, large space, filled with nothing but silence and air. 

I would never know just how big the room was, I would never find a wall. I'd just keep walking and walking, my eyes never able to adjust. I would cry, and yell, and scream at the top of my burning lungs, but no one would ever hear me. No one would come for me. I would stay in a dark room, eventually going crazy. What would keep me company? My own dark depleting thoughts as I lie helplessly on the floor that I can't see? Maybe I will be so out of it by then that I imagine someone talking to me, as we bask in the warmth of the sun. The soft green grass tickling our feet and our laughter loud and carefree. 

Then I'd awaken, my eyes met with a large, neverending blanket of darkness.

That, is my own personal hell.