Monday, December 2, 2013

Keeping my hands busy and away from my skin.

When I was a kid, I used to be afraid of the dark. I slept with the lights on until I was 11 and then I moved on to night lights. I felt like such a grown up the first night I slept with the night light on. I guess that was one of the first times I felt like I wasnt a kid anymore. I guess that's stupid, sleeping with a night light doesn't make me an adult, really, it's no different than sleeping with all the lights on.

I started sleeping with the lights off the first night I moved into my sister's house and out of my parents'.

The truth is, it wasn't darkness I feared. It was more than that.

Hushed arguments whispered in the dead of night, being shoved into my sister's bedroom when the whispers gradually became louder. Muffled yellings penetrating through all the barriers in between. Shouts travelling beyond bedroom doors, walls, comforters and palms covering my ears. The hate resonating through my eardrums and goes to places deep in my mind making me feel emotions I didn't understand, not at the time at least. Somewhere in what felt like the distance was ny sister's slow voice, telling me to sleep. My solace then. Still my solace now. 

It was always in the darkness when things get ugly.

It was never the darkness I feared, it's what it reminded me of that terrifies me.

I am not scared of the darkness, I am afraid of fights.


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