Fear of the Dark

When I was a lot younger and smaller, I was scared of the dark. Like any other child, I believe. For example, I firmly believed there could be thieves waiting next to the door to my room, waiting for me to fall asleep so they could get in and steal stuff. I now wonder what made me think I had anything worth stealing in my room, but back then I was convinced there could be thieves. When I went to sleep, I would face my door so I would see someone entering, just in case.
A few years later on there was a young girl missing in Belgium. Since that moment, I got scared of finding dead bodies. I was immensely scared of dead people. Honestly I’m still not very comfortable when thinking of that. But I did stop checking under my bed in my closets before going to sleep. I kind of trust that dead bodies don’t just end up somewhere in our house.

The older I got, the more I realized I shouldn’t watch scary movies. That could be thrillers or the paranormal kind of movies. So no, I haven’t seen Paranormal Activities. God I’m glad for that! I did see The Grudge though, half of it, as I hid behind my hand or a pillow or whatever quite often. While my niece sat there with a poker face, saying things like ‘Oh, now his jaw falls on the floor’ the entire time. Then we knew we had to hide, so actually that was good.
Later that evening we had to go to sleep. My bed was placed in such a way my head would be close to the suddenly suspicious looking curtains. We changed it.

I’m a scaredy cat. That’s just what it is. I’ve been afraid of the dark quite long, and never liked being home alone in the evening. The sounds you hear when you’re alone are definitely not the ones you hear when there are other people around. Suspicious as hell.

But things got better when I grew older. Like, I started to realize how small the chances are that thieves can just sneak into our house and wait behind a door until everyone’s asleep to steel my music box. The chances you suddenly find a dead body aren’t all that high either. Though I’m still not all that comfortable all the time, I sure am more rational about it.

So now I’m 19 years old, and scared of the dark again. I don’t know what happened. Since I went to university I have come home during the night, with barely any light so often I couldn’t even count it anymore. I was never scared. Maybe because a bit of alcohol and a lot of fun makes you more at ease perhaps. Then why am I currently scared to leave my bed at night? Why do I hesitate before I open a door? Why do I feel like I need my teddy bear? It seems like darkness got the enemy again. A while back I liked the night-time, because it feels like possibilities and going out and beer. Night was good. Now night has become the time when I can’t fall asleep and hear noises. Not voices, noises. All around. And often I can’t figure out where they  come from, what causes these sounds. Even with three other people in this house I feel uncomfortable. I kid you not.

You know what I think? I think my brains decided I don’t want to grow up after all, and they’re throwing me back in time. But if there’s any part I just really want to leave behind, it’s this one…

Of course I couldn’t not include this song…

Darkness – the bright side

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.

To darkness and to me

Nothing but footsteps in an empty street.

No one to see. Sleep, people, sleep.

Keep your world small – pillow, human, sheet.

I will stay awake. I’ll walk.

There’s hunger I’ve caused which I must feed.

I know I shouldn’t run away.

Take me there, take the lead.

Force me to stay, make me talk.

I can feel my heart and body beat.

And the people sleep, sleep unlike we.

But I don’t want to feel the need.

It’s a dead end road, walk away, decisively,

And leave the world to darkness and to me.

I kind of stole that last line. Apologies.

Forgetful darkness

I lit another cigarette when leaving the house. It was cold enough to see your own breath, but now I saw but smoke. Covered up in a big scarf and a warm jacket, I almost felt protected against anything. I walked on. Normally I’d go by bike, but it felt good to walk and buy time this way. It would at least take twenty minutes before I’d reach his house, where I’d throw off my scarf and jacket and drink a beer. Even the thought made me long to it, though the walk wasn’t that bad. There was sun, it did not rain, in fact it couldn’t have been much better. A bus passed by, with people piled and angry looking, and I was glad to be outside.
I lit another cigarette and thought of what was to come: beer, beer, more beer, night, people. I’d forget time and everything I was supposed to remember. It was even doubtful whether we’d even eat during this weekend. Perhaps when we’d get too hungry. But food, really, it didn’t appeal to me anymore. Life was good as it was at the moment, and we could not ruin that by doing things we were supposed to do. We’d just see what would happen.

The street I decided to walk past wasn’t as empty as the street I came from. People were shopping and buying stuff (useless, so useless) and talking or texting. It felt like they were from another world, like I had nothing to do with them. I floated past them, blowing smoke at them, laughing like I should. But that felt good. After all, I was still a part of them for a little while, until I’d arrive at his place and disappear for three days. Some of them smiled back, as they should, but some ignored me. Oh well. That’s typically human, I guess.

In a small, cozy coffee shop I bought a cup hot coffee with a lot of milk and sugar. Such cold days just ask for a cup of coffee. I stayed in the bar for about ten minutes, buying more time to stay in the real world, in the world of healthy, rational people. A safe world, for people doing something with their lives. It would be a pleasure to leave it for a while, but somehow it also scared me. Would I be able to return from the dark laziness I’d be in for three days? But all that mulling, worrying, like it mattered. I took my phone and texted my best friend I wouldn’t be attainable this weekend, then left the coffee shop. This time it was my breath I saw. Getting closer every second. Approaching the forgetful state I’d be in.

One more cigarette. I waited in front of his door until I’d had the last breath of smoke, then threw away the remains of the cigarette and rang the doorbell.

“Come on in.”

Don’t bring the light

Don’t bring the light.
I hide between the sheets.
Cover me up, bury me deep, to
Never wake again.
I hang onto the night.
Let’s forget what daylight looks like,
Let’s forget the other side.
The world’s sheets and there I lie.
Don’t bring fright, for I deny
Anything that could strike,
That could pull me back to this mortal side.
Wrap me up in warmth, dig me a hole.
Maybe this could turn the tide.
A pillow’s fortress where I’ll be left sole.
I’m hiding deep inside.
Don’t bring the light.

Broken Down Time

Let me tell you what happens when your watch breaks down:

You have no clue at all about what time it is.

You stay where you are for too long, because you have no clue of what time it is.

You accompany a friend.

It’s too dark because the windows are blinded.

You stay too long, because even if you had a watch, it wouldn’t be light enough to see it.

Daylight blinds you when you leave.

You don’t do as much useful things as you wanted to, because you haven’t had enough sleep – you didn’t know it was time to go to bed.

And two days later on, you do more or less exactly the same.


It’s time to have my watch repaired…