When I'm alone, I can never stand the darkness.
Sitting with the people I know make it more bearable.
When I'm alone, though, my mind begins to conjure monsters and beasts and entities that can hide from my sight when I'm in the dark.
Hands grope for my ankles as they hang over the bed's rim.
Jagged, flat, and sharp teeth nip the open air to blindly find the warm flesh set into my mold.
People pass through solid walls to greet me with my neck in a choke hold
I always used to tell myself that these monsters weren't real.
I'd tell myself that every night as a younger child, flicking off my lamp and going to bed.
Here I am, though, shuddering and cowering over monsters dripping from the ceilings and raising from the floor to catch me in a cocoon of fear.
Breaking into a scamper at the thought of a tangled body crawling closely behind me as I move through pitch black hallways.
Keeping my closet open to make sure no figures are hiding.
It's very silly as I think back at it, but when I'm caught in the moment, I feel as if it'll kill me in an instant.
I hold my breath and forget to breathe, afraid it will find me if I do.
It all sounds so silly, and so fake.
It is silly.
It is most likely fake, yet it seems too real, sometimes.