Updated: Nov 29, 2021
I wrote this when I was around seventeen years old. I have always struggled with anxiety, and writing is my biggest outlet.
I always try to hold on to the last flicker of daylight. Even as the last glowing rays sink on the horizon, I try to ignore the impending shadows of nightfall. I can not be found in darkness, nor can I be saved. I lay in bed desperately hoping to be left alone for one night, but alas, darkness can also be found hiding under the security of my blanket. Over and over I say it’s not real, but fear has other ideas.
You ask where my courage is residing, and I say it has left with the watchful eyes of the sun. You ask where my faith in tomorrow lies, and I say, with day comes another night, and with night comes another opportunity for doubt. After all, darkness seems never-ending. The vast space of nothingness places the weight of the world on my shoulders making it difficult to breathe. No one can save me. I must help myself. Maybe not tonight, but if the sun rises in the morning, I shall once again ask it to stay.