There is always just enough space in a shadow to hide a nightmare, and the nightmares only come when shadows blanket the world to the point of suffocation. Behind the corner of an abandoned building, there is an old darkness waiting to alight. Under the roof of a lonely train station, there is a new darkness anxious to claim a new disciple. They crawl between the cracks in this city and refuse to come out, they whisper strange words to a crowd that listens as a guilty pleasure. Sometimes it is better to feel the back of your neck elongate and freeze with dread than it is to feel the lukewarm water of everyday.
When the energy oozes out of me and my eyelids droop ominously: That's when they start to come. I can feel them pressing against my throat with heavy fingers, they strangle the prospects for tomorrow and lure me out the window, frantically searching for something to point out as the perpetrator of my insanity. I seem to draw a blank each time, unable to tear an unknown gaze from my skin. Paranoia: A lesson in how to stay awake.
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