Phobia

Noctiphobia

It's the one thing that makes my heart stop beating. Even when there was nothing else, even when they said I was the one who couldn't be scared. I did my best to hide it, yes. You have to, when it's something so common.

And, in the past, I even loved it.

That's what makes it all the more frightening.

Right.

Noctiphobia. Knock-tih-foe-bee-uh. Noun. A fear of the night.

Right. “A phobia is a persistent and irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that results in a compelling desire to avoid it." Something I learned in school. I remember the thought that crossed my mind when I first read it. 'These people must never have had a phobia. It's not irrational if you understand it.' The same thought I had then. The same thought I have now.

Although, I don’t guess I understand it myself. I used to love the night, but...anyway.  I understand that it’s nighttime, and I understand that I can’t bear this feeling. Of course, that’s what fear is. It was necessary for our ancestors’ survival, the same as pain: a bad feeling to tell them something isn’t quite right.

It’s weird to explain like that, but, that’s what fear is. The stimulus occurs, in this, my case, nighttime comes, and the whole body responds, “this is bad for survival!” and tries to get away.

 My breathing quickens, as does my pulse, and I begin to sweat. I can see the moon, but the sun is nowhere to be found.

I look up at the nighttime sky. On some twisted level, I still find it beautiful, the way one might find a majestic lion beautiful as it opens its jaws to consume them. But still, I have to wonder.

How did I end up like this?

Too frightened, even to move, I sit down and hug my knees to my chest, burying my face in my knees and trying desperately to convince myself that it’s day time.

It almost worked until....I hear a wolf howl.

Right. Canis Lupis. A common grey wolf, no doubt. Mindlessly stating facts to keep my mind off the real subject. Wolves are nocturnal creatures.

I’m not afraid of the canis Lupis. It’s just an overgrown domestic dog (canis Familiaris), and besides, wolves rarely attack humans. Besides that, it sounded far off. I shut off all thoughts, waiting for the response. ...Another wolf howl. It, too, is far off. I’m safe enough, then.

Right, and how did I end up like this?

It must have been my old habit for taking midnight walks, and my old love of the night that did it.

...It doesn’t really matter now, though. All I can do now is sit here and wait for the sun to rise, and listen to the wolves talk to each other. It’s nice how they have each other to talk to.

I sigh and wish I had someone to talk to.

I hug my knees closer, and try to stay warm. A vague nagging at the back of my mind tells me there’s something else I should be concerned about. I think it’s hunger, but I’m not worried.

Right now, this fear is making everything else numb. But it’s okay. This has happened before. I know I won’t be able to coax myself into falling asleep, but I can sit here until the sun rises.

It’s funny, I think to myself, I feel like this has happened before. ...In fact, it has. Only then, I was sitting out here watching the stars, dreading the sunrise. I had to laugh then, at the irony of it all. But, just as the sun was about to rise, someone I vaguely remember as being all-too-familiar found me, and brought me back home.

And then I thought, I wish they would come find me this time, and save me. And just then, the sun did come up, and I did see an all-too-familiar silhouette contrasted against the sunrise; a dream come to take me home.