It seems like lately I’ve been writing a lot about darkness, sleeping, and melancholia. I guess that kind of sums up how I’m feeling at the moment! Let’s have a look: on darkness I wrote this poem and this story, and this poem has got darkness starring. Sleeping is the main role here, and here as well. Melancholia is sprinkled over all above mentioned posts, but also in this one, and this.
But don’t think though that I’m on the edge of weeping and sobbing all the time. Mostly, I’ve got weird ‘not feeling anything really’ state. Then I’m not sad, but not happy either. I’m something in between and that feels a bit weird and uncomfortable.
But! After all, I’m still alive, and perhaps it’s better not to feel anything rather than to be depressed. To return to the above mentioned posts though, I’ve been talking a lot about darkness lately. Like, a lot. It may seem like darkness is a metaphor for sadness or death or something, and once it used to be, but now it isn’t anymore. I mean, darkness can be really soothing, and that’s something I especially realized lately. I like to keep my curtains closed until noon. It makes me feel like I’m in my own little cave or something.
Next to that, darkness gives good circumstances for a good conversation – it’s easier to be honest and at ease when you don’t have to face the other person. And the night is a very good setting for great memories. When I was thinking about this, I discovered quite some recollections that took place at night or in darkness. So it’s not always a metaphor for bad things, for sadness or anything. It’s also a metaphor for something more peaceful, almost soothing. Like rest. But not the dead kind of rest, if you understand.
What is darkness for you? What are your best memories that took place at night or when it was dark? Do you like nighttime and darkness or not at all? Tell me.