Back in the days when I was still at a single digit age, I remember how I used to be afraid of going to bed, turning off the lights, and closing my eyes because I was scared of the darkness. I was scared of the thought of monsters and demons from the stories and the scary movies I was not supposed to watch lurking around in places I couldn’t see. I would think of the bogey man or the man with a hook for a hand coming out from under my bed or behind the curtain to slaughter me in my sleep and that the only true shield I had was my bed blanket. Not to mention that the howling of stray dogs and sudden creeks from settling objects added to the disarray I felt at that moment. I would wake up in the middle of the night scared shitless of the dark and it’s hidden monsters. I feared the darkness. I hated it for what it did to me.
Today, I wake up an insomniac in that darkness. I stare through it and I feel nothing. I look back, typing this down in total darkness, the only glow of light from my screen, the night hours of the devil, totally unafraid. Sometimes wishing that the monsters and demons of my imagination would be true. They would come eat me and I’d let them. I wouldn’t be afraid of them.
Because the bogey man or the hooked man are not the real monsters. I’ve met my real monsters. I’ve seen the true demons that haunt me. And they scare the shit out of me. Because most of them look just like me, taking the shape of human form. Demons that manifest themselves in the form of broken dreams and promises, wasted opportunities, laziness and procrastination, heartbreaks and disappointments, the unkind human nature and the feeling of brokenness that follow, thieves, sociopaths, psychopaths, murderers…the real demons. So much so that the darkness seems so much kinder and safer to be in. Taking refuge in the one thing I feared most as an innocent kid.
It now doesn’t seem so bad after all.
Because when I really think about it, the real scary monsters come out when the sun rises.