The Darkness

The darkness is not just the absence of light.

It is weight.

It is silence with teeth.

It is the place where time loses its shape

and thoughts echo too loudly.

I have known its language.

The way it whispers,

convincing me I am alone,

convincing me I am unworthy,

convincing me there is no way forward.

But the darkness is not only destruction.

It is also a mirror.

In its depths, I see the parts of myself

I tried to bury,

the shadows I tried to outrun.

It forces me to face what daylight lets me hide.

Some nights, it feels endless.

Other nights, I catch the faintest glow —

a reminder that even the smallest flame

can hold its ground

against all that emptiness.

The darkness teaches me this:

it is not here to kill me,

but to show me how badly I want to live.