night time blues


Damien has an almost obsessive fear of night.  The sight of the setting sun alone is enough to make him anxious. His heart beats a little faster. “Artificial light is no use against the darkness,” he once told his sister. “I could still feel it encroaching me like a heavy breathing cloak.” But what it is about night time that scares him so much, he couldn’t tell. All he knows is that when night comes he could feel every part of his body being torn apart as if his innards are being pulled by imaginary vultures. “Oh they do come,” he told her. “They come every night under the stealth of darkness and they go straight for my heart, ripping it out of my chest and I could do nothing but endure the excruciating pain.”

But, of course, just like Prometheus’ liver, by the next day, Damien always finds his heart whole again.   


When one falls in love, one suddenly becomes aware of the time and distance between him and his beloved. One begins to wonder if by any chance he is also thinking of him and despite being physically apart hopes that they are both made closer by their thoughts, that their affection trumps the science of time and space.

Also, every second and hour spent thinking of the other is considered precious even if the other is completely oblivious of the ever growing affection. The mere fact that one loves unselfishly, that the affection remains unrequited makes the act nobler and whatever emotion felt during this period is quickly elevated into something that’s akin to melancholia. 


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