Growing up, I hated myself for not being beautiful, smart, figured, intelligent, fair, slim, confident… I hated myself for everything I was and everything I was not. I would sob quietly so no one could hear, hide myself away at the back seat or a corner, away from the light, away from people and away from situations that reminded me of who I was and all I was not.
Each day, all I longed for was night fall because, in the dark, I was free to be me with all my imperfections. My scars, pain, tears, body, skin, voice, everything. In the dark, I could be every version of myself- soft, calm, sad, happy, creative, peaceful, beautiful, smart, intelligent… because the darkness gave me an opportunity to imagine, stay creative, explore and fall in love with the beauty of the moon, stars, the cold night breeze, the stillness of the city, the peace that gave way to adventure and creativity. In the dark, I was light.
While every living and non living thing was laid to rest, the moon and the stars fueled me up; the cold breeze inspired my creativity and the stillness gave room for words to flow. I would crawl out of bed where I was covered up in sheets or under the dining table which provided comfort and a haven that shielded away the after effects of the scolding, beating and jests from those I was meant to look up to. Quietly, I would pick up my pen and paper, scribble words on the blank sheets, look up to the moon, back at the candle light before me, look down on the sheet and keep writing everything I could. This was all the comfort I needed. In poems, articles, stories, essays, books- I read; this was home.
There were times when words never flowed, creativity was far, adventure was impossible and the darkness was too densed- thought I would suffocate. Moments like this, I would go out in the dark, sit in the balcony, walk to the field and let the breeze glide through every pore on my skin, swinging my clothes and hair to its tune. I made music in my head, danced to it the way I could and sometimes let my clothes fall off.
I thought growing older, getting knowledgeable and being so smart, beautiful, curvy and more appreciative of my skin color and body, with new friends and lots of adventure would change the way I longed for night fall… It never did. Nothing changed! In the night, I was me. In the dark, I was home. In the dark night, I was all the light I needed in my life. I still let my hair down, get naked, write, imagine a lot of creative things, explore, stare at the stars, share my secrets, tears, pain and joy with the moon, send messages through the breeze and live my best life in the dark.
Today, I’ve grown older and my imperfections still live with me- some to behold, some to uphold, some to develop. In the dark, I see myself better. In the dark, I see me. In the dark, I am me. Darkness is a light of its own- beautiful, peaceful, inspiring, original. Darkness is home; My home!