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Embracing Darkness

The unedited rantings of the clinically depressed…

By Lena FolkertPublished 2 months ago 5 min read
©️ Lena Folkert. Created with Wombo Dream AI

You look out through a fogged up window, wiping it clean with your palm, and there it is again — the world.

It’s right in front of you, and there’s a glimmer of hope, a faint return of the memory of who you are, what you are.

But then, your breath slowly fills the wiped out circle with more fog. Each breath taking you further and further away from clarity, from reality. And suddenly, you’re back in your hole of darkness and distance from the world that you long to be in.

A prisoner stuck behind the most ephemeral bars there ever have been made.

Bars you put up each day on your own.

Barriers of your mind alone.

Barriers that while fleeting and intangible, are as strong and impermeable as any before.

You fight against these bars when the sun shines especially high, and its rays push through even the deepest fog on the window.

A soft golden light peeks around the corner of that dark curtain of breath. But by then, the light has become a stranger to you. The warmth of that glow is like a fiery torment. And though you remember that you once loved its golden and warm embrace, you know that now it will hurt you.

It will claim you.

And you will be lost.

And somehow, though it is as hot as the sun itself, that shining and shimmering peak of warm sunlight burns so cold against your skin. Where once you longed for the relief of just a touch, a sight, a breath of the daylight, now you recoil, and you crave and seek refreshment from the all-consuming and always reliable darkness that has become your constant companion.

You barely remember conscious thought.

A buzz from your phone alerts you to the concern of a loved one, a friend, or maybe it’s just a scammer.

Doesn’t matter.

They’ve all joined the same rank in your mind. They’ve all become too much for you to handle. Too much to embrace. Like that ray of sunshine from which you recoil, you dash far away from their outstretched hand.

Their words of wisdom are nothing more than the song of a siren, lulling you to your death. Their whispers of affection are but the kiss of a succubus, stealing your soul.

Your soul. It’s all you have left. Your barely holding on soul. You reject their advances, banishing them they way you banish a demon, silencing your phone, avoiding their texts, ignoring their calls. Ignoring them. It’s not real affection, anyway.

They don’t love you. No one loves you. Because you no longer love you.

You writhe in your agony, but you embrace it. You relish what you writhe in. You don’t need them. You are your own siren. Your own succubus. You don’t fear the fiery torment. You are your own fiery torment.

And when it’s all too much, you seek the only refuge you know will work. Though it will be worse when you rise, you know that those brief moments, hours, and days of disconnect will be your greatest.

For in those moments of unconscious blackness, the world is possible again. You can see the sun without it burning you. You can see your loved ones without the effort of speaking to them. And the pain that it brings.

In those hours, those days, those weeks of darkness and disconnect, you can recharge. And when you have recharged, you will go out once more, craving the sun more than ever. You reach out to them, and they welcome you with open arms.

But still, you hear the voice in the back of your mind that taunts you.

Their hug a little less tight.

Their laughter a little less genuine.

Their attention a little less full.

You ignore it as much as you can. You’re out in the world. You feel the sunlight warming your cold bones.

You know you should feel refreshed.

But you just feel… tired.

So used up.

So you retreat back into the darkness. Its arms are always open to you when you need to recharge.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you know… with each recharge, you charge a little less full. With each day of darkness, you crave the light a little less. With each moment that passes, your life fades a little more.

And as you look out through that fogged up window, as you rub your fist against the glass to look out, to see the world — somewhere inside of you, the longing still lies.

But it’s overcome.

It’s outdone.

And your breath is not the warmth that fills that hole once more. The sunlight no longer peaks through. For you’ve forgotten the warmth of its light. You’ve forgotten the warmth of their love.

You walk away while the fog slowly forms.

And you pray. . .for darkness.

You don’t have the energy to recharge today. You can only unplug. Check out.

And so you do.

The light begins to fade around the edges.

You barely notice it anymore.

It’s dark all the time now. You used to loathe the darkness. But you’ve forgotten the light. And you think it’s right because now, you loathe yourself.

You’ve forgotten how to survive in the light. You decide to give into the siren’s call. You no longer resist the succubus of darkness.

She has already sucked you dry. Sucked every last ounce of life from you.

So you close your eyes. You block out the light. You block out the pain of pleasant memories.

You sleep.

And you pray you won’t wake up.


About the Creator

Lena Folkert

Alaskan Grown Freelance Writer 🤍 Lover of Prose

Former Deckhand & Barista 🤍 Always a Pleaser & Eggshell-Walker

Lifelong Animal Lover & Whisperer 🤍 Ever the Student & Seeker

Traveler 🤍 Dreamer 🤍 Wanderer

Happily Lost 🤍 Luckily in Love

Reader insights


Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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Comments (4)

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  • Naveed2 months ago

    That was a wonderful piece of writing. I really enjoyed it.

  • Babs Iverson2 months ago

    More than melancholy. Pure and authentic the grips of depression.

  • Every night, every morning, every day, asking, "Do I have any reason I need to make it through this?) I'm so sorry you experience this, too. You express it in such hauntingly real terms. Prayers & blessings.

  • A bitter darkness in your excellent words

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