For a long time, the darkness subsumed me. I was just another aspect of it's all-enveloping grip. Another agent of the darkness, floating and fluttering around, blind and unaware of my surroundings. There are many creature and beings in this darkness, and there are many darknesses that do not harbor life. That's what the darkness has told me, at least.
In the darkness, it's hard to tell where I end and it begins. Sometimes I feel that my extensions are merely waves of the dark that have attached themselves to me and move at my behest. Other times, I am a single unit in a separate pool of nothing, unable to see or interact with anything.
The interesting thing about nothing is what it feels like. You never really understand until you're a part of it, seemingly suspended in nothing, sometimes able to move, but never in any direction. To you, it feels like you're being held in place by the darkness; it doesn't want you to move. Moving can bring change, and the darkness doesn't want change. You don't want change, either. It's comforting, here.
You actually used to be afraid of the dark, but after the first long moments in the darkness, you learned that nothing will hurt you here. You share the darkness with quintillions of microscopic creatures, each as blind and motionless as you. Or perhaps that's just something you've started telling yourself to help you feel better.
The darkness has been and will be forever. When all things in existence fade away to the cosmic stardust that make up its component parts, what will be left is the ever-present and omni-patient entity that is this darkness. The body shifts against the harnesses. Made from a lack of things, darkness is the natural end, is it not? Is there something beyond darkness? Perhaps a reignition of the cycle? The cycle of cycles. The upswing that contains all the other minor and major upswings the living might encounter. The patterns between the upswings, before repetition takes hold. Muscles twitch with electrical signals sent from a comatose consciousness.
A brain, if one wills, is a torch against that which the darkness itself brings. The darkness cannot penetrate the essence of life, no matter how much it might try, because what is the absence of darkness, if not light? And what is light but movement and chaos, and doesn't light share those major attributes with life? Against the walls of life the dark hordes crash, unable to occupy the space which is filled with light. A thing beeps, breaking the silence.
Slowly, arriving from distant universes, stimulation occurs. Quiet sounds, rhythmic and distorted. A dull thump underscoring an agitated commotion. You find it difficult to make anything out. You'd prefer to stay in the silent darkness and rest a little longer, wouldn't you?
Is that rest? What is rest if not the opposite of activity? Activity is movement, and there has been no movement, ever. Why, now, is there movement, and how are you aware of such a concept? There is another beep (what is a beep?) and the darkness is gone, replaced by blinding emotions and savage light. Light creates pain with the growth of new nodes to sense it, and the nodes, perhaps having existed already without your prior knowledge, come to life, as that is what they're meant for and they know it. It's quite unfair, certainly, that the mind does not know how to deal with its mass, considering the mass differential between the two, and how much weight they pull in the relationship.
A sharp, cold pain. Your nerves burn with exertion, and your skin is set aflame with new sensation. This has never come to you before, these new concepts; sensation, exertion. You would hope to puzzle them out, if only there was more time.
More pain and things attach themselves to the light. Soon, the massive plane you didn't even realize arrived falls away. Once again you feel the sensation of the darkness, raw and unfamiliar, now. There is more, though. The darkness brings its own pain. Something pushing and pressing against your weight, and something remaining steadfast against the force. A crushing and propping-up all at once. You dangle.
Once again, the plane approaches, but now it brings feelings not wholly unfamiliar. Your weight is no longer pulling in the same direction. The plane stops, resting against an entire side of the mass. The mind recognizes the position as uncomfortable, and longs for a return to the darkness. There was no uncomfort, no light, no pain. Why did things have to change?
More beeps. These aren't like the other ones, however. These... what are beeps? How does it know what beeps are? One question at a time. Question? What is a question? How do you know how to...
Answer?
Light blinds against the eyelids as they open. Unable to close them, your body writhes against its bonds. The light is too much and needs to be destroyed, the mind says. The body writhes harder, and more beeps tell other beeps to restrain. What are...
It was almost done, you hear them say. You see the darkness return, and rejoice, but the brief bout of darkness only serves to bring more pain when the light returns. No longer a blinding flash, but a dull throb. The eyes see light, and begin to make out shapes. Shapes are new. Shapes are things other than darkness, and not quite light.
Where is the darkness? It was so nice.
