My eyes blink rapidly as I regain consiousness. How long was I out? It's dark outside, but it's the kind of dark that is eerie. The clouds are this depressing shade of grey, and the wind blows at just the right time to make you think there's a ghost around. And I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if there was- this house is old. Old enough to have had atleast one person die. My thoughts run wild as I muster enough strength to lift my head off the desk that is lit only by one waxed candle, which is already three quarters burnt through. I let out an ached groan as my back muscles twitch, also waking up. My hands are numb and so are my feet, it feels like they're floating. I crook my neck and squint my eyes just right to see what I was working on before my mind shut down- another book. It's my third one, and honestly, I'm exhausted from writing them. But it's what I know.
The days in this city fly by like nothing. I introduce myself to a few people, say the typical "Hi, I'm Darcy- it's nice to meet you." then never see them again. It gets boring, not being able to make any lasting aquantances. The fact that I go to all these places and wear these things and act this way and get nothing in return, it's unfair. I see people on the streets with their families- happy. They are content and satisfied with their material things, aswell as the people that surround them. But for some reason, I can never find a balance between the two. I've always been out of the ordinary. Ailor but not too ailor, quiet and too apologetic. I'm the bare minimum. I'm lonely, and sad, and lukewarm.
But then, the night swallows me. It englufs me in this atmostphere that is like a drug- I can never get enough. The stars act as points, I connect them and make a picture. A picture of me being happy. When it's cloudy and it rains and it's dark, I lay on the stone ground and let the cold numb me over, and the rain prickle my skin, it's a sense I cling to. The moon is my spotlight, the one thing that makes me feel special, or worth being special. Sometimes, I sit on the rooftops of family's homes and watch the moon rise and fall, and wish that I could have such purpose as the moon. It's purpose is to provide light, and a reminder to the inhabitants below it that it is time to rest, or it's time to awaken. I sit there and I watch and I feel happy. The rain on my skin acts as a blanket that I never want to take off. The stars act as a lightshow that I never get bored of. The euphoric sense of darkness has always filled me with the opposite- warmth and purpose. I am the night, and the night is me.
Then, I wake up.
