4
In a Coma - Part Two
Posted by JSYL
on
Monday, June 04, 2007
in
JSYL's Prose
I’m scared of the dark.
If you can keep a secret, I’ll tell you something else…I always have been.
So darkness gave me no comfort or peace- just that fear that only comes with the uncertainty of solitude.
And at first, that’s what most overwhelmed me- the understanding that I was being enveloped by this darkness indefinitely, taken into it’s arms, embraced so tightly I felt I was choking, like I was drowning in a nightmare from which there could be no relief.
I couldn’t move. And yes, I did try to. I geared myself up to scream out, to wave out my arms, to open my eyes. But to no avail- it was, as I said, like trying to wake up from a bad dream. I struggled for what must have been days, to reach out to anyone who might be nearby. But the words would not form into sounds, my arms remained chained to the stiff mattress I lay on. My thoughts were clear, and I could hear voices around me. I could smell the sterile tiles and the industrial cleaner on the windows and the fresh paint on the walls. But all I could see in front and around me was pitch black.
When I was little, my parents would take turns sitting with me in my room at night, in an attempt to make me realise that love and familiarity could exist in it’s midst. I lay awake for hours, eyes wide open, fists clenched by my side so tight my fingernails dug into my skin, waiting for daylight to break. Usually I grew exhausted from the sheer effort of being afraid, and dozed off.
After a while they left me to sleep on my own, proud that the ‘child phobia’ chapter of their first DIY parenting manual had proved successful. But it had never really worked.
I was getting too old for night lights and parent sleepovers. So I discovered my own way to conquer the dark. I’d close my eyes and concentrate on conjuring up colourful scenes featuring anyone and anything I wanted. At first they were of me hanging out with my favourite cartoon characters, but as I got older they became me driving around in the cars displayed in the magazines under my bed, with the girls posing on top of them sitting next to me. I focused on the details that brought them to life in my head- the sound of my feet hitting the pavement, the screech as I slammed on the brakes as we rounded a corner.
That way, I was never really in the dark- out at night I had the harsh glow of street lights, in clubs the flash of laser-like beams every few seconds, and in bed- my own internal night light.
I’m resolved to conquer this darkness, too. I will fight it by imagining it away. I will live as though I’m in the light. The only other alternative is to let myself disappear, and I’m not prepared to let that happen. Although I’m 25, the prospect of doing this is no less frightening and all consuming than it had been when I was five years old.
Because this time is different.
Back then, light was just a flick of the switch, or a few hours away.
But this time I could be in the dark forever.
[...to be continued]
|
If you can keep a secret, I’ll tell you something else…I always have been.
So darkness gave me no comfort or peace- just that fear that only comes with the uncertainty of solitude.
And at first, that’s what most overwhelmed me- the understanding that I was being enveloped by this darkness indefinitely, taken into it’s arms, embraced so tightly I felt I was choking, like I was drowning in a nightmare from which there could be no relief.
I couldn’t move. And yes, I did try to. I geared myself up to scream out, to wave out my arms, to open my eyes. But to no avail- it was, as I said, like trying to wake up from a bad dream. I struggled for what must have been days, to reach out to anyone who might be nearby. But the words would not form into sounds, my arms remained chained to the stiff mattress I lay on. My thoughts were clear, and I could hear voices around me. I could smell the sterile tiles and the industrial cleaner on the windows and the fresh paint on the walls. But all I could see in front and around me was pitch black.
When I was little, my parents would take turns sitting with me in my room at night, in an attempt to make me realise that love and familiarity could exist in it’s midst. I lay awake for hours, eyes wide open, fists clenched by my side so tight my fingernails dug into my skin, waiting for daylight to break. Usually I grew exhausted from the sheer effort of being afraid, and dozed off.
After a while they left me to sleep on my own, proud that the ‘child phobia’ chapter of their first DIY parenting manual had proved successful. But it had never really worked.
I was getting too old for night lights and parent sleepovers. So I discovered my own way to conquer the dark. I’d close my eyes and concentrate on conjuring up colourful scenes featuring anyone and anything I wanted. At first they were of me hanging out with my favourite cartoon characters, but as I got older they became me driving around in the cars displayed in the magazines under my bed, with the girls posing on top of them sitting next to me. I focused on the details that brought them to life in my head- the sound of my feet hitting the pavement, the screech as I slammed on the brakes as we rounded a corner.
That way, I was never really in the dark- out at night I had the harsh glow of street lights, in clubs the flash of laser-like beams every few seconds, and in bed- my own internal night light.
I’m resolved to conquer this darkness, too. I will fight it by imagining it away. I will live as though I’m in the light. The only other alternative is to let myself disappear, and I’m not prepared to let that happen. Although I’m 25, the prospect of doing this is no less frightening and all consuming than it had been when I was five years old.
Because this time is different.
Back then, light was just a flick of the switch, or a few hours away.
But this time I could be in the dark forever.
[...to be continued]
|
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