The darkness can never have me again because the light has chosen to make me its home. So long I fought. I mistook the one for the other, and so much pain. Pain that led to pain. It bleeds out of me now from every pore, and colors all that I see. Now, in the moment when there is the most of all, I am unable to allow the darkness to fill me again. I try to run to it in a dream that never happens, but in real life, which is now, I am unable to submit myself to it. I am incapable of going under.
The feeling is not altogether unlike what I can only imagine the psychological equivalent of the slow and steady removal of the skin while still alive must be like. When the poets of old wrote of hell, this must have been what they saw.
None of this matters, though. I am free at last. The light shines in the darkness and overcomes it. There is nothing the darkness can do. The darkness doesn’t understand. It only had power when I handed power over to it, and I can’t do that anymore. Number One: having seen the horrors that doing so wrought, I should be an utter fool to relinquish myself to it again, even for one moment. Number Two: my appetite for destruction seems to have been taken away from me. Number Three: what it all boils down to is that I love her, and love never fails.
