Perhaps when we’re unsure on where to start, where we start doesn’t matter so much?
And so, here we are: Starting.
I guess I could share thoughts on my present darkness? Though I use that word a lot. I guess because I’m here a lot.
In the darkness.
It’s a love-hate relationship.
Perhaps more so a relationship I hate to love?
This darkness is so familiar. So comfortable. It’s the light that’s uncomfortable. And scary.
In the light there is the likelihood I’ll fall back into the darkness.
It’s stressful to hold on, just waiting for it to happen — again.
Often it feels much easier just to stay here.
Is it bad to say I find the darkness… inspiring?
Is it bad to say I find the darkness… safe?
People can’t hurt me here.
Probably because they can’t find me — off the grid.
Is it controlling? Is that what I find so addictive about this state of being — existing?
When I can’t control my thoughts or my circumstance, I retreat into my shell to seek out that — any — sense of control.
I don’t reply to messages, not because I don’t want to, but because that too I am in control of.
Well, maybe that’s not so accurate; I can’t find the words either. And it does get repetitive attempting to explain this same feeling again and again.
It’s easier to say nothing.
And to have normal conversations when I’m back to ‘myself’. At least, ‘myself’ according to what you see.
What I allow you to see.
There it is again: Control.
People don’t know me for who I am. They know for me what I let them see.
I say that now. Maybe that’s not true. Maybe that’s the darkness talking.
But it feels true as best as my dark mind can rationalise.
I won’t read these words back — I’ll just hit publish. And maybe come back in a month or two — or six — when things don’t feel so dark and suffocating.
For now, and for once, I won’t overthink my feelings: I’ll just express.
Because maybe that’s what I need to do more of? Maybe that’s all I need to do more of?
Perhaps that’s where I begin to relinquish my sense of control?