In the dark, I lie awake.

I am still. 

I am tired, but scared.

My brain is wandering, yet I’m still in my bed.

The anxiety seems to control me. 

It creeps up behind me, and makes me sick to my stomach.

It makes my eyes sting as the little droplets escape them.

It makes me squirm and hold myself back from screaming.

The dark doesn’t scare me, it’s what it can do that scares me.

It can make the lightning in the pouring rain shine brighter.

It can make the silence louder, my thoughts wobble.

It can make possibilities stronger.

I let out a loud gasp.

I squeeze my stuffed animal.

I tightly close my eyes.

I let my blankets enclose me in a tight space.

I hold myself back from any sudden movements.

Someone flicks on a light.

I let myself loose and breathe.

The dark can’t do anything to stop the light.

The anxiety tries to block its eyes from the light.

I rest in the small light coming from my parent’s lamp.

I close my eyes.

The dark has no effect on me now.