Creative nonfiction

When we all fall asleep, where do we go?

I lied.

I lied when I said the darkness was comforting. It is not. If anything, it frightens me. But it is an escape. And I am looking to escape, thus, anywhere but here will suffice.

What happens to the wanderer who has forgotten home? Doomed to search in all the wrong places, for a haven she is not sure truly exists. It is madness, when the light comes she has to walk, and run, and search, and fight. But these do not come with the darkness, with night; at night we rest.

There is pain, and there is pain. There is also the crushing weight of confusion, not knowing how to feel. And then, you’re stuck in the hollow in-between; scared to give in to the pain, scared to let go, to fall into indifference. Because you know, either way you lose yourself. You also know you have lost yourself ages ago, but will be damned if you ever face reality. The only better option is the darkness– at night, we rest.

There are things we linger to admit. Things we bury deep inside us, so deep that they have given to themselves a life, and they’ve grown. We keep them locked in still, afraid of what they have become, “ignorance is bliss”. When darkness washes over us, we don’t have to face those things. At night, we rest.

We know about the wanderers, but what about those souls trapped in a body they have grown tired of? In a body that is dead. They are screaming to be let out, but no one cares to listen. So, they learn to silence their screams and tell themselves it is okay. They chant it like a mantra. The bodies are long gone, how long until the souls follow? The darkness does not care for unanswered questions– only rest.

The darkness, it does not comfort me by itself. It alone, does not calm me. But the idea of an escape, the idea of peace, something I’ve been lacking that just might be the answer to my unspoken questions. That is what I seek. Not darkness, but peace. Peace, silence, and rest. Because at night, we rest.

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