I went for a walk last night at about 1am. I put my headphones in, listened to my "wandering" Spotify playlist, and just walked. Trying to make sense of this year and all the changes that are rapidly approaching faster than I'd like to admit. I eventually reached the ocean, and stared out at its grim, jelly-like demeanour waving slowly at me.
I was there for a about an hour. These are the thoughts that followed:
There's a distinguishable contrast between the silence in the darkness compared to the daylight. Silent darkness wraps itself tightly around your chest and covers your eyes as if to say "Guess who". It permeates your thoughts and whispers the sounds of muffled, distant midnight travellers, driving down cold empty streets.
There's a false note in this darkness though, this night has been polluted by artificial lights. Darkness itself doesn't pollute, It simply fills the space that light has left behind in its voracious hunger, consuming the scraps of air it can find.
People fear darkness, they fear the ambivalence of what's lurking in the shadows; of monsters that hide under beds or reapers that hunt in the night. People fear what they do not understand. Do you understand if you're afraid of the dark?
I like darkness. I think it's just as afraid of us as we are of it. It cowers in the corners of rooms and hides under tables when a light is turned on. It has a fleeting insecurity about the way it runs away which I think is hauntingly captivating and enchanting. It elegantly dances around open flames, it wraps itself up in the waves of the ocean, blanketing the depths of the sea with each crash. It securely anchors everything to the planet and asks for nothing in return.
One day I will find real darkness, true darkness. I long to be immersed in it, breathing in chilled air while letting my body just be. In darkness you have no choice but to just be. Nothing matters in still, silent darkness. I hope to lie in the depths of the dark, silent earth and listen to the noisy thoughts in my dark head.