Yesterday, I made a deal with darkness.
I invited myself into its home and gave myself time to sit awhile on its couch.
I wrapped it up in blankets, poured it some tea, gave it useless knick knacks until it gave in and called me a guest. I made it welcome to my companionship and treated it fairly.
I made darkness not my enemy, but my roommate, and I felt all the better for it.
Today I finally signed my lease,
This time, I think it’s going to pay off.
I put down my deposit and they put down theirs,
A single, lingering, pulsating thought of which is always their down payment, one of misery and mirth, of madness and miracle, one that creeps in when you least expect it and tears you apart from the inside out.
I am moving in with darkness, and instead of the confusion I once felt I am undoubtedly excited by this prospect.
As they say, keep your enemies close and your demons will soon follow.
My roommate is quiet, yet their presence is palpable.
A veritable tension that fills the room,
Reminding me of its spacial embodiment
That no amount of obscurantism could subside.
Like the solemn days when I can feel myself getting older,
And as I try to recount it right before my eyes, it happens.
But I do not mind, for a welcome guest in my home is one that does not lie,
That does not scold me when there’s no one else to scold, but there in the back of my mind seeps through some vague recollection that it’s entirely their fault, and no one else’s and I feel delight in this because now, I can love everybody BUT my roommate.
We have a set schedule that we keep to,
Every Sunday I periodically take out the trash, refill the water filter, keep the cat from digging through the couch.
And every Monday, my darkness will tell me that I did everything wrong.
It will chastise, it corrects, it demands I follow through,
And I smile and say, “Of course, what else would you have me do?”
And it proclaims in its baritone voice, “Dark days are coming. Prepare for the worst.”
And I reply, “Oh, you always know what to say, don’t you?”
My roommate and I like to share tidbits about our lives.
When they are out finding others to commune with, I scold myself because there’s no one else to scold.
Then they come back and I tell them of my scoldings,
And they respond with “yes, they’re all true. But have you considered that this other thing could have been your fault too?”
I reply, “No, I have never thought of that!”
And we laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh through our tears.
After several weeks of living with darkness, I want to tell you there’s a day coming where I may have to seek other apartments.
But I cannot bring myself to!
I want my voice to be heard but I am scared of the reception towards it,
But darkness? Darkness will always listen.
I find it to be some kind of miracle
That I am able to peer so deep into myself and find some semblance of truth,
One which only they can bring out in me.
So in conclusion, I have made my bed in darkness.
And someday, I hope to god that they will accept me too.
And we will lie; yes, lie in bed together
And give ourselves the comforts we need to make it through.
This is how I went to bed with darkness, and regrettably it does not share in the joy I felt.
I am locked into position by forebears who think they know better,
and I frighten myself at the prospect of betraying them.
