"One Dark Night"

[Kirito309]

"One Dark Night"

I write by candlelight here in the darkness of my soul. I am without love or hope, save for and from my children, and I just sit here with my demons over a cup of tea. They taunt me and I am without recourse. My youngest daughter is awake but the demons do not disturb her and she can’t see them. They are here for me.

Loneliness sits and watches the clock, noting the passage of time and how things haven’t changed despite my efforts. He sits alone and wont associate with the others, just listening to the conversation around him. He does not see anyone here who can banish him. His position in the circle is secure. I am isolated emotionally from people. No one has any interest in finding out what is inside this man who keeps out the dark in the middle of the night. They only see his loneliness and pain, unwilling to see if there is love beneath the construct of his situation. “The others are not your friends.” He reminds me. I used to spend long hours talking with Loneliness but in the end he never offered anything, just taking up my time in useless banter.

Pain sits with his arms crossed. He knows his position is secure also. Like bow and stern anchors, Loneliness and Pain are the constants that hold my world in place. There is no one to man the capstan to pull them up, nor does there appear to be anyone coming anytime soon. The pain I feel is the constant ache of emptiness, the removal of my insides by slow cutting. There is no rush. Pain has all the time in the world to hollow me out. It is Loneliness that is encouraging the pain, and Pain that feeds Loneliness with bits of my soul. My pain is my own, the slow dying from a lack of love, the spiritual and emotional bonding of two people, the physical touch of a woman who cares whether you live or die, intrinsically, without agenda, reward or gain.

Despair sits in the corner, mumbling to himself. “The situation won’t change. I will remain alone; no one will love someone like me. No one can save me and I would be better off dead, and most likely everyone else would be better off if I was dead. My passing would go unnoticed and my death insignificant. I have accomplished nothing and will be remembered for the same. Those who know me will wonder why I hadn’t died years ago. No one is coming to help. I am alone and I have done all that I can to change that and I have accomplished nothing.” This mantra repeats in various combinations.

Hopelessness says nothing at all, but the forlorn look on his face speaks volumes. Death is inevitable, it is simply a question of when does it become preferable. I have received all that I can expect to be given in the form of love, represented by my daughters, and I shouldn’t ask for more than I have been given. I have received more than others and may actually be depriving other people of their chance for love. Life will only diminish from this point forward. Further pursuit will only prove to be fruitless because I have become too bitter to appreciate love. I have become an unregulated consumer of limited resources without hope of ever returning anywhere near what I have taken.

Fear is here, sitting in the middle of the room, too scared to move. Worried about hurting others, causing more damage to my battered soul or just unwilling to risk anything on an unknown. “Why risk meeting anyone when all you will do is cause pain, especially when your situation prevents you from being the person, husband, lover you want to be. You risk all that you have now for a flimsy construct of what love really is.” There is truth in these words. I should feel guilt, but Guilt hasn’t been around here in awhile. Need has chased him away. Need remains, but is dying of starvation in the corner, unfulfilled.

Death sits in his chair. Death and I are old friends who go way back. He is the only one here I can really talk to. He reminds me that it is not yet my time, like some contractual obligation at the end of an advertisement, but I can choose to go with him anytime. Although I have asked he never speaks about the Other Side. He can only tell you about the road there. Death is just a driver. You choose the destination by the path you take in this life. How you travel, how you die, and where you are going is up to you. The trip may be long, slow and painful or may take only a moment. A quiet drive past field of grass or just a blur of cyan light, racing past stars. Death is just the driver and he has been to all the destinations, but will speak only of the many roads to them. His interest is in the journey.

Death and I do not talk today. We have spoken about the journey so often I have tired of others experiences and long for my own journey to begin. He knows something he cannot say but his body language tells me we won’t be travelling together for an awfully long time. He knows the sadness I feel, like a condemned man facing decades in prison without a chance for parole. Hopelessness sees the comprehension on my face and frowns. I am aware of my situation and am unwilling to change it. This is not compassion on the part of Hopelessness, just understanding.

The lot of them, except for Death, resent my children. They give me hope. I forgot to tell you about Hope. Hope is tied up in a corner with a rag stuffed in her mouth. I suppose I am as much at fault as they are. I have freed her a few times but have been hurt too much. Hope doesn’t offer any promises, just intangibles. More often than not Hope has led me down paths that have ended in disappointment, failure and pain. It is easier for now to leave her tied up in the corner. I prefer the tangible, harsh reality than the flowery, ephemeral dreams I can never hold in the night, in the dark. I know I have to cut her loose soon or she will die, but Hope has never served me well.

The dawn has come and my demons are going away, for now. I have other things to occupy my mind. I know we will sit together again, in the dark, waiting for the dawn. Although I would like to banish my demons, make Hope more tangibly productive and know what Death has seen, I realize very little is going to change unless I change it. I should go untie Hope, but I’m going to make another cup of tea first. Maybe I expect too much from life. I wonder why God allowed me to bring children into this world? Probably to keep me alive until something changes, not that change will necessarily be better, just different. But none of this is about me anyway.

[FuckYouDad]

Wow, Kirito309, your post is beautiful. I’m sorry you have to hang out with all those jerk-offs. I have my own similar posse waiting to trap me any day now, I’m sure... the last few days they haven’t had a grip on me though.

Shame sits at the table deflated, bags under his eyes, downcast, shaking his head, glancing at me from time to time with disappointment in his eyes. Shame holds high expectations over my head that I can never meet. Shame doesn’t feel compassion for me, won’t give me the time to understand my story.

It’s fascinating how from darkness comes light. I see/feel a bright light and love emanating from your writing. I remember when I was younger trying to understand love. When you’re attracted to someone you can fall in love with them, I love my sister and my parents and my friends and my grandparents. But we really learn most about love when there’s an absence of it when we need it. Love is such an amazing and powerful and spiritual force!

I hope you’re able to ask for help/get some therapy. I can see the love and beauty in you through your post and I hope you’re able to one day, too. FREE HOPE!!! What a different world this would be if we all prioritized healing and self-love.

[Kirito309]

Thank you for your reply. I usually view my posts as flares in the night hoping someone will come by with a sailboat to rescue me from the coke bottle life raft on the sea of despiar as I float on this flimsy hope I have made for myself, only to find someone who made their raft out of toothpicks. Someday I will figure out how to do that.

I have Asperger's and don't feel the shame as vividly as others because I don't perceive what I have done as being bad until much later. By then it no longer carries the same weight. I have learned to live without expections for myself and have no one in my life to hold aspirations for me. If I did I missed it somewhere along the way.

An example of this came from my father (Like your user name BTW). We were at an airshow and I was watching a Corsair A-7 doing low passes up and down the runway. I was seven at the time. I told my father I wanted to fly jets one day. He told me "You have to be pretty smart to fly jets, but maybe you could fix them."

Later in life, after two bachelor's degrees and decades of fixing machines for a living (though I never went into aviation repair) I come to find out one of my talents is spatial geometry. I found this out while racing a car at a 1/4 mile track. One of the drivers noted that I could "See" the spacial objects as they moved and could find the openings, anticipate defects in the track and understand the g-forces being exerted. Apparently this is something prized in fighter pilots. Thanks Dad.

Too old to fly for a living I build machines and fix computers. Live alone and hope things get better. Hope remains fickle though. Fed her some ramen and tea. We will see what comes next.