Darkness

I feel its darkness lurking. I know it is there, so I expect it. Even so, I am never prepared for it. It's black, twisted vines reaching out like tentacles from some ancient sea beast. The vines ensnare me, grappling my legs and wrists the whole time, pulling me ever closer to the darkness. Suffocating, all-enveloping darkness. A place where my mind is no longer my own.

This darkness tells me what to feel, how to think. It traps me in bouts of crippling anxiety, crushing down on my chest. This darkness tells me everyone is out to get me and to trust no one. It says things like "they will always hurt you" and "people just want to use you." It presents me with an alternate set of truths and facts, all distorted and all hopeless. The darkness tells me that I don't need sleep. It tells me I can take on the world, that I am powerful, unstoppable, and a force of nature. It makes me think I am invincible. It tells me that it doesn't matter that I hurt people. It is just collateral damage for being the greatest. The darkness reminds me of my sexual desires. It keeps those desires front and center. The thoughts and desires of sex can be all-consuming.

Then, when my world is in chaos and turmoil, and I can't fight my way out of the darkness, it whispers in my ear that I am all alone. It whispers to me that I should run. Leave my life behind me. Everyone is better off without me anyway. It reminds me of all my failures. All of my mistakes. It is as if the darkness is in me now. I try to fight it. I am aware that it has grabbed hold of me. I reach out to others to try and find the light again. I hold on to ideas of love and truth and facts as long as I can. I can't untangle the vines that ensnare me anymore. And when I think all is lost, and this place in the darkness is where I will always dwell, the vines loosen. And as quickly as they grabbed me, pulled me in, and tried to keep me there, they withdraw.

The darkness is gone, but I can still feel it lurking. I try to regain control of my mind and repair all the damage that was done. I fight back any lingering untruths and distorted realities. My mania doesn't bring me to lofty mountain tops. It swallows me into the dark valleys, where I am alone. Scared. Tired. And each time I make it back from the darkness, a little bit of me is lost. It stays there. I know there will be another trip into the darkness soon enough. It fills me with dread. I am screaming out at the top of my lungs, "Don't let me get lost in the dark forever." I don't know who I am screaming to, and there is never a response. And so I wait for the darkness to come again.