It’s the middle of the night. The dead of the night, as they say. Yet I’m awake. Laying still in the darkness, pretending that if I don’t move, sleep will find me again. I long for the oblivion of deep slumber. The escape. But instead, my thoughts swirl. My heart aches and is tormented by fear. My brain is assailed with worry. I am in the darkness and the darkness fills me. I am one with the darkness.
That’s life, awake and alone, in the middle of the night. I know it well. I spend a lot of time here. Too much time.
It’s hard to see possibilities in the middle of the night. It’s hard to have hope. It’s hard to believe that anything will ever work out well when darkness is all you can see. When it fills your eyes, but sleep eludes you. When you can’t see.
Even in the sunlight, enveloped in warmth, I struggle to have hope. In the dark shadows of nighttime, I fall off the cliff into utter despair and terror. I am swallowed whole by the empty void. I only know fear. And deep inky blackness.
It’s too quite here, in the middle of the night. It is too empty. Too lonely.
The darkness limits possibilities.
The darkness suffocates hope.
I’m tired. So tired.
Too much of my life has been lived in the middle of the night. Too much of my life has been spent in darkness. Too much of my life has been lived alone. In emptiness. Without. In deep shadow. Void of light.
Far too much of my life has been lived in the middle of the night. Even the part I spent in the physical sunshine. It has been tainted with deep shadows. My days were still dark. Always dark. Dark and silent. Empty. Cloaked in the deepest blackness. A blackness the sun couldn’t penetrate.
I don’t know why the middle of the night has dominated my life. I don’t know why I can’t ever seem to walk in daylight and warmth. I only know this hasn’t been my path.
Some people always seem to find favor. Some always seem to receive mercy. Some find acceptance at every turn. Some are blessed with only occasional hardship. This has not been my experience.
My experience has been that of judgment and rejection. My experience has been occasional blessing with overwhelming hardship. Loss. Hurt. I have been judged too often and found to be worthless.
I can’t help but wonder why. I can’t help but question what there is about me that prevents me from walking in daylight. That prevents me from being loved. Or from having value.
What is it about me that makes me less than human?
In the middle of the night, I have no answers. Only questions. Unanswerable questions.
It is so dark in the middle of the night.
Like my life.
No rest for the unwanted. The worthless. Not in the middle of the night.
The middle of the night. Where I live.