As the glowing digits of my clock told me it was 2:47 AM, I looked away from my ceiling to the window. Latin there on my bed I saw the night sky, almost at its darkest. The moon too far to give much light.
I got off from my bed and walked towards the window, sat on the window seat and looked down. I saw cars lined up to go to the club, thumping music making the doors bounce every moment to a steady rhythm. I saw the trees swaying to the gentle breeze.
I heard the rustling of the leaves, the clamor of dance songs playing in the club, the loud cries of excitement or happiness from the people near the club, I could hear everything.
It struck me then that this was normal. For only in the night, the monsters become real. Making trees look old and worn, the glazed eyes of the boys and girls prominent and the demons in my head stomping and annihilate every thought of positivity in its path to the rhythm of the songs in the club. For only in the darkness, the demons come alive.
They deal with it by drinking and dancing all night, drinking their sorrows away till the next morning, dancing their worries away till the next problem. I dealt with it alone in my dark room, silence deafening the beat of my heart the only sound to cover up the noiseless sobs.
Darkness is a time to be alive outside however you choose to show your liveliness, but dead inside with thoughts decaying hearts pumping out the pain and feet dancing to the tune of misery.