It’s been so long since I’ve posted.
I haven’t lived, or slipped into, the dark place for a while. Perhaps last year, or not since the year before, idk. It faded away.
But here I am. Again.
It’s back.
My dark place …
Like an old glove, like an old friend, it’s at times gently, softly speaking to me. Moments come along and wash over this being – my soul, my heart, my Self, my here-and-now, my entire Me – moments when it calls more strongly; it desires me. It awaits my return.
It beckons.
The Me that I’ve been apart from … disconnected from, I suppose, slips inside, even if only momentarily.
It beckons.
I listen randomly; our connection has been softened (weakened?) in our mutual absence.
It beckons.
It welcomes me. This rejoining feels easy. I notice the comfort it radiates. I slip inside.
In disjointed brief seconds, this feels as if we never parted. Yet … there is a sense of unfamiliarity … created by distance, time.
We’ve been apart for so long.
I’ve missed you. We share a whisper of longing only the two of us can hear.
It knows me like no other.
The desire flows through me. Yes.
I thought we’d lost one another. I thought perhaps we’d never meet again … or at least not for a very long time. It almost felt okay.
We’re together now, in those brief moments we share. We’re becoming acquainted again. But I reckon it doesn’t need any catching-up; it knows me too well … and for far too long.
It wants me to know that the safety remains. The cold and quiet calm is ever there and ready to hold me, keep me alive and keep those others alive … for now.
Those others. They cannot fathom this.
They’ve never been here.
But some of me is home now. The glove still fits. The friend remains.
I’ve been here all along.
The cold waits.
I linger at the edge of the dark place.
hopeforthemisanthropetrope 