6.5.15

Plain Black

She sat there. She brought her knees up to her chest, and hugged them.
She rested her head on her knees. She hugged her knees tighter.
And she closed her eyes. She closed them really tight so that  no light whatsoever could filter in.
She enjoyed the darkness. The pure black.
The space, and how it was never-ending.
Just plain black.

She found this odd comfort in closing her eyes, and then covering them with her hands, or a blanket, or by burying her head into the sofa, or her knees, to make it as dark as possible.

She wondered if there was a process similar that she could do with her mind. To stop the constant noise. The constant daydreams. The same thoughts over and over.

She plugs her headphones into her phone, scrolls to Spotify and presses play on the Sia, Sam and Sheeran playlist. She turns it up loud.
She covers her eyes again, sinking into the darkness.

She finds comfort in those songs. But soon enough,they bring back those feelings she's been having recently. It's funny how songs can relate to feelings isn't it? And how listening to one can reignite memories and thoughts.

She keeps listening. Wondering if she can change the thoughts related to those songs. If she listens enough then maybe the old ones will disappear. But it was no good.
She was surrounded by those thoughts, those feelings, those memories.

She focused on the black. On the darkness she had created, by hugging her knees that little bit tighter.
But deep in there, in the distance, images appeared. Nice ones. But ones that didn't help those thoughts, and instead encouraged them. She let them run for a while, to see if they would fade.
She felt a smile upon her face, and a tear fall down her cheek.

The music felt like it was getting louder, although it wasn't. Maybe she was just focusing on it more. She was more aware of the words in the songs, how they related to these images she was seeing. Being reminded of why these songs, even if the words weren't relevant, are linked to the images, thoughts and feelings.

She was lost in this moment, and didn't know how to stop it. She needed to wake up. She needed to return to "the real world", to see which life she was living. But it was so hard.
The darkness was more inviting. And it just kept pulling her in.
Those images. Those songs. They were just what she needed.

She took a deep breath. Another tear fell, rolling slowly down her cheek.
She gently wiped it away. And with her hand at her face, she let the darkness invite her again.
And she drifted into the plain black.

Attachment, Authenticity and Jordan Pickford

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