Best I could do
You know what I love
I love sitting in the darkness of my room
I love hearing the thunderstorms and rain and seeing the sudden lightning
I love listening to music and crying
I love crying so much I need to burry my face in my pillow so no one can hear me
I love cuddling up in my blankets hoping I won’t be as alone as I am now
I love this but sometimes I just wanna go outside and stand in the rain and scream and tell the whole world about my fucked up emotions
I hate that I need this.
Nyctophilia “Love of darkness or night; finding relaxation and comfort in darkness.”
Death is a traumatic experience. The first time I died I was 15. I was walking home late at night from my friend’s house. It was just up the road. We lived in that type of neighborhood where everyone knew each others’ names and nothing bad ever happened. Except that night, that was the night Matt, who lived in the house next to mine, broke up with his girlfriend, Angel. She was nice I’d met her and we’d hung out a couple of times on my porch while she waited for Matt to get off work. That night though she’d just gotten her heart broken, and was speeding away with tears in her eyes, like the faster she drove away the easier it would be to tell herself that she was going to be okay. I tucked my hands into the pocket of my dark gray hoodie and noticed the car speeding toward me. There were no sidewalks so I walked along the edge of the street. The car was on the opposite side, so I saw no need to worry. That is until Miss Mable, old Thomas’s cat, decided she’d like a firefly for a late night snack. The snowy white cat pounced right into the street. Angel’s car swerved. I remember the blinding headlights as I tried to jump out of the way. Then the tumbling of lights, houses, sky, and ground spinning as I was spinning through the air. Then, there was nothing but complete darkness. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. Did I have hands anymore? I could sense them. I began to sense the darkness around me thicken, suddenly there was searing pain everywhere. My entire body felt like an exposed nerve. Colors, sounds, and lights rushed back in as I realized I was surrounded by people: the paramedics and neighbors. As they carefully moved me from the street into the ambulance I sensed something else. I turned my eyes toward the street light, then, slightly past it, looking in the shadows for whatever it was that was watching me. Suddenly I saw it, there in the shadows, a thicker darker shadow lurking just out of the light. It was shaped like a woman and though it had no eyes I knew it was watching me. I squeezed my eyes closed to shut out the pain as much as to tell myself what I was seeing wasn’t real. It wasn’t real… was it?
“I will always be in battle with the other part of me that wants to die and I was always be alone in it regardless of how many people stand by and watch
thats enough to make anyone want to surrender..”
creatures standing behind her… lights moving behind her…. remnants of a city behind her… as if she is trying to bring them to life again… and they are verging at the edge of darkness, disappearing, becoming nothing…
she is facing someone or something… in her hand a…
some creatures look in fear, terror, behind her, gazing… creatures… of fear…
Agatha wandered endlessly in the dark. Beneath her feet water lapped and splashed softly as she moved about her prison; stuck for what seemed like an eternity in her mind. The witch despaired in silence, hoping to spot anything that would take her mind off meandering aimlessly. It’s all she could do was keep moving, her thoughts seemingly ceased. Everything she felt, her own emotions, at a standstill. Is this truly hell? Is this the afterlife? Have I come upon the Maw itself - a black hole where I will forever wander as punishiment for my sins?
The violet witch held herself tightly, closing her eyes, trying to feel some kind of emotion. Some other thought other than the continuously questioning herself; the aching dread of not knowing if she would escape this endless wandering. She could not rest. She could not simply sit and think. Something else was pulling the string, something forced her to keep walking through the darkness; through the endless suffering of her own thoughts.
Occasionally as she walked, she would hear the distant sound of whispers. She heard a man’s voice and swiftly turned around, stopping in her tracks for a moment. “Lord Malus… “ she said in desperation. “Malcolm… Malcolm!” she cried out, but her voice echoed into the abyss. It was nothing more than a memory of his voice; of a distant time in her past. Hearing nothing in return, she kept walking.
Another whisper, a soft woman’s voice. Agatha’s eyes went wide and smile curled on her lips. She turned around, she felt joy. She could hear the woman’s voice again, “Snowyn… snowyn! Is that you old friend? I… “ she looked around, expecting to see the brightly red haired woman with round moon-like glasses appear, but alas another memory of the past that couldn’t manifest. As soon as the whispering died down, she turned back to her course and the emotionless wave washed over her once more. The questions in her mind ran through once more like a broken record.
She walked on, hearing different voices until none came through. She wandered, panicked. She then felt emotion rise within her: fear. The woman began running, running as if her life depending on it. She called out: “Help! Anyone! HELP!” she screamed, her voice echoing into the darkness, “Get me out of here! Please!”
Agatha continued to run, her breathing growing heavy. Her chest felt on fire, she started to gasp for air as she ran. Fear drove her on until she tripped, falling face first into the water. She felt every moment as her cheek crashed against the ground and water. She felt it all. The pain. The agony. Fear. Panic. Agatha lay there on the ground, sobbing into the water. She balled her fist up, clenching it in frustration. She managed to pull herself up and screamed up into the blackend sky, but there was no sound. She couldn’t hear herself at all. All sounds began to disappear.
She fell forward, forehead against the water soaked ground, her lovely black and gold hair fanning out around her in a chaotic mess. She sobbed so hard she could feel her lungs and her throat give out. Morddred… Morddred…. she could finally hear the voice in her head call out to her beloved. Morddred… Morddred…
“He’s not here….” said a sultry, sweet voice. It was the sweetest thing Agatha had ever heard and she immediately sat up, both hands holding herself up as she gazed dumbfoundedly at the sight before her.
woke up surprised, am i really alive?
⚠️WARNING - Flashing Lights.⚠️
Another less successful one.
What is it like to wake up and feel motivated and excited about your day?
What is it like to leave your apartment without having to take rucksack with everything that’s going to keep you from crumbling during your panic attacks?
What is it like being able to leave your apartment more than twice a week because it physically drains you, weakens you and the anxiety is too straining.
What is it like to watch a non action movie and the voice in your mind saying “I wish I could do that.” The cause they had to travel to the next town without the panic your thoughts create.
What is it like to go a day without wanting to end it all?
What is it like to be able to hold down a job?
What is it like to have friends to help you get out, to help you feel human, to feel like you’re not insane- like you matter.
What is it like not crying because you can’t cope with the tiniest amount of pressure whether it’s going to pick up milk from the shop or baby sitting?
Here’s a failed one - the camera wasn’t quite secure and fell (or was pushed by ghost 🤷♀️) on me - but it ok because it luckily missed my face and landed on my stomach instead - so the phone is still in one piece… as is my face. 👍
Lately I’ve found that I’m very short tempered which isn’t like me at all and I don’t like it.