In the dead of night, it’s quiet and lonely. No one to call friend, but also no one to call foe. Or is there? If I am blinded by the darkness of night, then how am I to know? As I lay in bed, I wonder to myself will make I it to morning? Will I be unwillingly taken by the malicious Angel of Death or protected by my valiant Guardian Angel? I try to sleep, but what’s the point?
When my eyelids meet to protect my eyes from the fears of the dark, there is nothing but more darkness. My eyelids exclude me from the outside world against my will. As if they are trying to say something without saying anything.
Isolation and loneliness are constantly envisioned throughout my day. I can’t help but feel that I am being followed by something I cannot escape. Something I cannot lose, no matter how hard I try. Or is it to surprise me of an upcoming situation? Maybe it is to present me with a gift of some sort. But every time I re-open my eyes to receive the great presentable, I open my eyes to nothing. My hopes are built up only to watch them fall.
My eyes are doing nothing more than taunting me. And because my eyes are a part of me, then I am taunting myself. And if I am taunting myself, then who will be there to keep me sane? To keep me…me?