Darkness Owns Me

You'll never see the darkness in my mind: the bone-crushing blackness, the maddening loneliness, the infinite and cosmic abyss where I fall through an eternity. I fall and fall and fall and there is no telling how long it might take me to reach the ground, to be shattered into a thousand pieces, to end it once and for all.

You'll never understand how the darkness would suffocate me. It washes over me like waves, gentle at first, so soft I wouldn't even notice it's there; then it gets rougher, and I would get swept into the black ocean. I would try to swim, but the waters are viscous and heavy and the inky droplets would stick to my arms and weigh me down. The worst part is realizing that while the drowning at sea part is only in my head, the suffocating part is real. I'm doubling over and kneeling on the floor to breathe but it is like a thick layer of oil is coating my alveoli - my lungs just don't work anymore.

That's not to say that I'm depressed all the time. Sometimes it's as if I'm another person altogether. I guess that's what bipolarity does to you. But even when it strikes, I could fight it for awhile; when I'm with company. I could still pretend that I am another person, untouched by the darkness and I would fake it so well that even my demons are deceived. It is only when I'm alone again, that they would come back and haunt me and tell me that the brief happiness I had felt when I was another person was a lie, an illusion, and I was foolish to believe it.

But it's better that you can't see the darkness. Because then you wouldn't fathom the atrocity of my deepest thoughts. You wouldn't know that when I say I hate the world, I meant I would burn them all, all the occupants on earth - you and him and them and me. You wouldn't know that I dream of monsters, tearing and mutilating people with their fangs and their claws, only to realize that I am the monsters. All of them. Like zombie clones of me.

You don't believe me, do you? That's alright. I terrify myself too.