3:20AM

Darkness.

When I was a little girl, the darkness haunted me. All these grown ups used to tell me that darkness is something to be feared, all the demons lived there. Black was associated with being a colour of agony, sadness, and suffering. My happy little heart told me to stay away from all of these terrifying sounding words and I obeyed. Joyful little me, I used to get so happy at dawn when the golden sun finally rose and darkness faded. And suddenly I'm 17 and it's 3.02am and I'm laying under the tragically beautiful sky, full of stars, slowly dying, and it's dark. And my heart doesn't fear this darkness. I look up and admire the constellations telling stories. And surprisingly, I don't feel sad or agonised, what the adults told me. And I talk to the moon and I feel at peace. Because it's silent and finally I don't hear my parents fighting, or the sound of things breaking around my house, or my little brother crying, or my little sister silently sobbing so she won't be heard. And to be honest darkness was never something to be feared, it's an old friend which gives me everything my languid life lacks. So every night, I make coffee and sit here at exactly 3am and I tell the moon about my slowly poisoning heart and he tells me it will all be okay one day. I laugh in sheer doubt at his cryptic yet blissful words and hope everything will turn out to be how he says.🖤