Letting Go

“But he realised he did not want to be fed to the Darkness. He did not want to help that monster grow and lure in other stray souls into that painless, lifeless vacuum. “

Photography Credits: Edward Honaker Photography

And at that moment, he felt like giving in, like letting his body fall back into the eager arms of Darkness.

He could already imagine how delicious it would feel to not be lonely anymore—and who cared really, if his companion, the one to break the curse of all this sadness and melancholy, was a demon? …So long as he had someone, so long as he drove away the maddening loneliness, what did it all matter? Good,bad, dead or alive…

He could already taste the relief on his tongue, could feel the chill of Darkness seep into his bones. Who needed warmth when the cold could numb you over and never make you feel pain?

And just as he was about to let himself go limp in the waiting arms of Darkness…

He stopped.

He had been down this road before, knew what it entailed: momentary comfort in exchange for added pain. It was senseless; no one would agree to it. Yet all the same, it was so tempting to fall into Darkness’s loveless embrace.

But he realised he did not want to be fed to the Darkness. He did not want to help that monster grow and lure in other stray souls into that painless, lifeless vacuum. He did not want to add to numbers that were already so full of grief, did not want the sound of his name to evoke choked gasps ans watery words.

“But he looked so happy.” “He was so young.”

He wanted, he realised, to be as happy as he pretended to be.

As he walked away from the abysses that lied beneath his feet, he thought that perhaps happiness was worth suffering for.

Afraid of the Road, Scared of Life.

Art by Anna Katrin Karlsson

It is silent and lonely.
He stands, a solitary figure in the darkness.
He wants to take a step forward,
but before him the road diverges into different paths.
He cannot see where they lead,
does not know how far along they go.

So because he is afraid,
he does not move.
He stays at this crossroads,
because this is safe.
This is better than the unknown.

But sometimes, as he watches another lone soul
walk down one of these paths,
he wonders how long he will be there for.

Language of the lonely

Illustration Credits: 미루 http://www.grafolio.com/works/107391

Do you ever get these complex feelings of loneliness?
The kind where you feel so empty, but not just anyone will do?

You’re left staring at a contact list full of names and green dots that say ‘available’.
And you think that you could send a friendly text; nothing too grand, nothing too fancy.
Just a little something to fill that pit in your heart.
But you don’t do it.

Because not everyone will do.
Because this loneliness is not about being alone.
It is not about companionship or lack of interaction.
It is about understanding.
It is about finding someone who not only acknowledges you,
but who also accepts and understands who you are.

The whole feeling is akin to the experience of being in a foreign country where no one understands your speech.
It is like ambling down busy streets and hearing others chatter excitedly in a tongue you do not speak.
It is, exactly, the envy that you feel as you watch them, wishing, wishing, that you too, had someone to talk to like that.

And this is how some of us feel.
Like foreigners, outsiders, wanderers who look on.
We feel the frustration, the barriers that stand between you and us,
when we explain the depths of our soul in a language we know too well,
but you have never heard of.

And it can feel tough when the others all speak the same language, but no one understands yours.

But rest assured, child, that one day,
the language you speak will roll off someone else’s tongue.

And it will be, to your soul, the sweetest sound.