To the Darkness Consumed by Darkness
I once believed
that closing my eyes
meant seeing nothing at all.
Like a room with the lights turned off.
Or a sky without a single star.
But one night,
I discovered that darkness
was not the end.
Because beyond that darkness,
there was another darkness
waiting beneath it.
It did not arrive suddenly.
Instead,
it quietly consumed everything.
As though it were pulling me deeper
into a place
where even the sound of my own voice
began to fade.
And for the first time,
I became afraid of closing my eyes.
I tried to think of anything
that might give me a reason
to open them again.
I thought about the responsibilities
waiting for me tomorrow.
A clock with a dead battery.
A phone that would never ring loudly enough
to wake me.
I was not ready to sink.
Yet somehow,
there was one thing
that came to mind.
A striped little soul.
A small presence
that pulled me back
toward the surface.
And so,
I woke up.
──────────
I chose to write
The Empty Chair.
Perhaps because
I felt just as empty.
But after I opened my eyes,
it was the silence
that frightened me.
Not the silence of the room.
Not the silence of the late night.
But a different kind of silence.
One that lived somewhere
inside me.
I listened carefully
to the sounds around me.
The sound of my own breathing.
Any sound at all
that could remind me
I was still here.
But the more I listened,
the more silence I found.
I do not know
when that fear first appeared.
Or whether it had always been there,
quietly waiting.
Perhaps I had simply never noticed it
until the night
darkness revealed it to me.
I was not afraid of the darkness
the way I once thought.
I was afraid of what remained
when everything became quiet.
Quiet enough
to leave me with nothing to hold on to.
Quiet enough
for me to hear
the emptiness within myself.
And in that moment,
I realized
that perhaps
the most frightening thing
is not the darkness itself,
but what we discover
after the darkness has passed.
โฆษณา
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