🪐 𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚜 🪐

𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛

•short story•

Absurd Person Singular - confessions and fears of a sixteen year old

When we were younger we were always asked the same old questions, what were our fears, our aspirations, what made us tick and what kept us awake at night? These questions don't simply disappear, they aren't left behind as we mature into adulthood. No. They cling to us with desperation and they refuse to be forgotten.

They dictate us, our fears that is, but no more than our hatred does. It is one thing to be so terrified of something that it renders us motionless and turns us into a pathetic excuse for a sentient being but it is another matter if we harbour so much animosity, so much raw guttural loathing for something that it morphs us into a heinous, uncontrollable beast. We never truly lose control though because hatred is more powerful, more complex than that. We fuel our hatred with every passing moment, our actions reflect that of our hatred and somewhere deep down we do condone our actions but fear is paralytic, fear is a loss of control. Anger on the other hand is a surge of oppressed emotion and there is no escaping the fact that they are our emotions. To deny that would be to lie and there is no greater crime then lying to one's self.

Of all my hatreds darkness is the simplest of all. The very meaning of darkness is the absence of light. As light is one of the worldly things that I crave it is not something that I wish to be rid of anytime soon. The fact that something exist that can extinguish the light is a hatred and a fear in itself. I desire much that is linked to light, a lighter burden and a lighter continence but light isn't the only thing that can help me; confessions are meant to rid a person of their burdens, to ease the mind - so I confess, I have self-diagnosed lyssophobia.

Lyssophobia is the fear of losing one's mind. My mind is my fortress, my place of refuge. No one can take it from me so what scares me most in the whole entire would, surpassing anything I may feel towards darkness, is insanity; for without my mind I am nothing. I don't fear much, not even death for even death is inevitable. Death it the uniting factor between all living creatures - the fact that one day we all end - and humans have to cart around the weight of this knowledge but between losing my mind and looming presence of darkness I am not sure I have the capacity to worry for anything else.
The freedom that light brings entices me the most and solidifies my fear and hatred for darkness. Freedom comes with a lighter domain to call my own, one that is rid of all the tempting evils that I am susceptible to on a daily basis.

What gets me more though then the darkness is my hatred of it - it is irrational, illogical, and absurd. I can't stand illogical happenings. Everything has an explanation even if humans haven't yet been exposed to it. This hatred though, this fear, it is unexplainable and the worst part of it all is that the only thing to blame is me - the cause - leaving me in quite a conundrum. So what I truly wish for is a utopia, perfection here on earth for perfection is in the eye of the beholder and so the world, my utopia, would be perfect for me and my wondering mind and therein lies my second hatred.

My hope hangs on unreachable perfection, a non-existent place - a utopia. For this the joke is on me for ever believing in a utopia or perfection on earth - humans are incapable of perfection. The very word utopia was first used back in the sixteenth century and even then the man who used it said it as a joke, a play on words. He created utopia from the Greek word eu-topos which, rightfully so, means a good place but an almost identical Greek word existed - ou-topos meaning no place or nowhere. The Greeks had an evil sense of humour that has been lost on generations of dreamers who hung onto the promises of a good place and people watched on without even having the decency to tell them that it was all a joke, a rouse. Utopia is a good place that it is not even a place.

Alas, a stupid hatred of utopia and the false promise of perfection is just that, false. To have a hatred, even a disliking for a word so plain, it doesn't even rightfully qualify in the spectrum, it is more of a pet hate if you will, and it is inconsequential in the grand scheme of my life.

The dark and all its foul maliciousness in reality is but a figment of my imagination and I am the instigator of all the mess and chaos that roams my head - for it is in fact my head not anyone else's. I have come to see that darkness was never something. The dark never even existed. Instead it is just what is left behind in the absence of light. You can't chase it away, you can't remove something that is merely the absence of something; no you can only replenish what has been lost, bring back the light. If then, the world was to be rid of darkness the light would become constant, nothing would be left to hope for.

I mean do we not watch the sun set in hope that we will live to see its fiery mass rise above the horizon once more. Without the darkness there is nothing left to hope for, nothing to live for - we world just be. Night would turn to day and the day would never again yield to night. The stars would be forever lost to the human eye and the moon would never again illuminate the world in the dead of night. Only the greater light would remain, the smaller one would be lost to the heavens and night and day would no longer be two; no separation would be left just one singular dominate light.

The definition of darkness is the absence of light, you cannot see the darkness, and darkness cannot exist without light and it cannot be explained. It only comes when everything else is gone. Darkness is nothing and yet it is everything. It consumes all and at the same time devours nothing. The world operates on a matter of balance, if one force outweighs the other it all comes crashing down. So maybe we do need the dark for without who will fight for the light?

1120 words