The Creation

The buzzing on my skin hasn’t stopped. I think it’s always been there. Another pill. They’re supposed to make the crawling stop, make the itch go away. But they just carry me to The Void. Sometimes that’s better.

Days get fuzzy and time blends together. Time. Can you believe in such a thing? Today is a bad day if it start with the buzzing and I have to take more than one of those pills.

The edge is so close. I’m always teetering on it. But I can’t go over. Sometimes I want to. I want the release of just letting go. Sometimes I just want to fall right over it. Feel everything slip away as slide from my body. Just one step and I’m tumbling down.

I keep falling. Down and down. The darkness calls to me like a friend I know but can’t remember. It clings to me. Wraps my body in ice. Whispers promises it can’t keep. Everything blurs. Or was there anything to begin with? I can’t remember anymore.

The weight crushing my chest makes my lungs want to give up. Pathetic attempts at controlling my breathing. My hands tremble. My vision shakes. The first time I ended up here, I thought I died. The 50th time, I thought I died and was in hell. Now, I don’t even know where here is. Just darkness. A Void so dark I can’t even tell how big it is. It’s as if I’ve fallen into a gaping hole of stone in the ocean so deep the neither light nor warmth can reach me. Or they dare not fall this far.

Every time, I climbed back up. And every time I told myself, you have to stand. You have to fight. You can do this. The light is always there, above me. Teasingly close, enough for me to imagine the crisp warmth of it. My eyes long for the ache of its rays. But it never snakes a tendril down for me. It just hovers. As if its taunting me. I can hear its mockery traveling to me through the heat waves that dissipate in the iciness here. I don’t think I can make it to the top again.

My fingers hurt from cracking on the stone. My toes sting from the hard icy ground. My chest heaves from the weight of madness crashing down on me. My throat is raw from the screams the darkness swallows up. The light won’t come for me. And I am so tired of chasing it.

I scream my hatred into the ground. Dig my fingers into the hard stone and snake roots throughout here. If the light won’t come for me, then I’ll just have to embrace the darkness. My anger at always being stuck in this empty darkness becomes a living thing. A thing built on revenge and spite.

I will fill this darkness. I will make it full of life. Of others. So that every time the light casts me aside and refuses to come for me, I may find company in this Void. I may bring my own version of happiness to this darkness. A place that I will always be accepted.

The problem with creating things in darkness, is that there is no light to counter them. To balance things. There is no light in these worlds, save for one place. But I don’t go there.

I will be the Queen of this place. Then I’ll never have to be lonely. I’ll never have to feel bad about being stuck in this darkness. Because there will always be others here with me.