The Dark that Comforts

I wish I liked the dark of winter.

The concept is great. There’s a certain kind of peace to be found at 3am. To sit up in the stillness of the night, all things flattened by the weight of it, all things muted and made soft. Insomnia guts the mind, taking away the frantic energy and the mundane grind of daily obligations, and leaves only the bare bones of yourself for company.

It’s not necessarily nice. But it is peaceful. The night is endless and full of promise. Foxes tip-toe around the edges of reality and all the world is quiet. The moon is indifferent to all the wretched scrabbling of humanity, the stars pin up the sky, and in a thousand years all you know will be gone and yet it will all continue on in some shape or another. In the dark you feel yourself a part of the universe, feel the unlikeliness of your existence, feel your irrelevance. It’s deeply refreshing.

The Dark that Consumes

But instead of getting to sleep on it, we still have to Go Out and Do Things the next morning. Even if it’s raining.

This ought be be illegal. But for some reason, I’m still expected to set an alarm and go outside.

The year is dying, but we don’t get time to mourn.

What should be a time for introspection and rest becomes something desperate, something to be endured. The peace of the dark becomes claustrophobic, bracketing short grey days and stretching endlessly into the future. Colour leaves the world, then warmth. It’s hard to do anything at all. It’s hard to write, hard to even think, hard to do anything except wish you could rest.

The Conclusion

I really need to invest in a sun lamp.

But there’s one silver thread to hold onto. No matter how weary, no matter how wrung out, time marches on. Inevitability outweighs all, even sorrow. As cliche as it is, spring will come around again, and the darkness will ease.

Until then, take care of yourself through the long night.

Yours,

Elmswood <3