I used to like the blissfulness that darkness brought me. I used to love how it made me forget everything, yet let me think over my thoughts and how it was seemingly endless; tumbling on forever and ever.

But not this darkness. I could feel the roughness of the car tires rumbling over the road, jostling me all over. The blackness was invading my ears and nose and smothering my entire body. My skin was suffocating and was tender to every touch, sore from being smashed and thrown around inside of this dreaded trunk. I wasn't sure where I was even being taken, but I knew one thing was for sure:

If I made it out of this alive, I would never sit in darkness again. Not with out some sort of light.

Nothingness surrounds me,

Suffocates me.

I am surrounded by emptiness,

Stuck in quarters devoid of light.

I may have found this comforting,

But not now,

Not here.

Here, I am stuck and insignificant,

Hidden by shadow.

If anyone's looking for me,

They won't find me here,

Encompassed by the eerily familiar color of the night.

The darkness reminds me that I do not know why I am here,

That I do not who trapped me,

Hauled me away as if I was nothing.

Perhaps I am.

The darkness has a sick way to it,

A certain way of making you think, A certain way of bringing out your deepest fears.