The Unseeing, Unfeeling, Uncaring Dark

in the dark at three a.m

Sometimes, you’re sitting in bed at three a.m staring off into the darkness of your room and it hits you. You’re not okay and you’re not sure why. But sometimes when it hits you, it doesn’t quite feel… real. Almost as if its just a figment of your exhausted imagination and you wonder why it chose this time to show up. It’s sort of like watching someone else’s life. You can see what it’s doing, how it feels, what it looks like, but you don’t quite realize that the someone is you. It’s not like you can make yourself understand that, logically. You just know it in your soul and there’s not much to be done about it. You have to just sit there, in the dark, your face half smashed into the pillow, one eye watering from the dry air, and take it all in. Almost revel in it, actually. It’s something that demands attention. Negative attention, generally. Because that’s what it is. You must not let yourself begin to believe that it is a positive thing. But at this time, in this setting, in this PLACE, it’s like a famous, but uninvited, houseguest. You don’t really think it should be there, but something about it is so intriguing, nearly fascinating, enrapturing, that you can’t bring yourself to look away. You study it with tired interest, knowing that you won't get another chance to see it this way for a long time. It’s not obstructing anything in your life presently, it just kind of sits there, opposite you, staring back complacently. No words are spoken and you wonder if you’re going crazy. It’s like you’re looking at a totally different plane of existence where nothing but you and this feeling exist as beings. You and it. Studying each other, you with thinly disguised apathy, it with its large eyes, full of melancholy, ones that you know you’ve drowned in many times before. You can’t be bothered to care. This is 3 a.m and it is sitting opposite you and you just… stare. The morning won’t be so kind, so gentle, so cozy, as the darkness that you sit in just there. Suffocate in your silence, in your non-feeling. It will not come again.