When I was young I wasn't afraid of the dark. I was more afraid of what could be in the dark. It's that bit of unknown that scares everyone. Even if you're one who likes surprises and new things, the something, which can't be seen, that's waiting just beyond the light is terrifying. In the end the thing we fear is what we imagine to be the worst.
I grew up in a world of darkness. That's not being dramatic either. More than half the year was spent without very much light. Some days the most you'd get would be three to four hours of light. It got to be that you'd cherish what light you got and distract yourself from the fact that it was night at 3:00 in the afternoon. You got used to it because given enough time, people will get used to just about anything. Plus at the time I had nothing else to compare it to, so I didn't know that seventeen hours of darkness wasn't usual for most people. So it got to be that you accepted that your days were actually nights.
There were times when I was just bored with television or my toys. I needed to be outside of the house. I had spent all day in school and being inside was driving me mad. I'd get on my snow pants and coat and go outside. The light above the garage door would illuminate this strange desolate world that was our front yard. In order to break the boredom I would run around in the freezing cold. No matter what I did though, I would never get too far away from that light. It's not like I couldn't find my way back without it, but it was something of a beacon to let me know that safety was right there. It was easy to imagine that given the right circumstances that the cold, dark, frozen world might be there for good. That summer might never come or somehow I wouldn't be around to see it. Even still I ran around in the darkness, enjoying that slight bit of fear that reminded me that I was alive.
As I got older I went further and further into that blackness. It got to a point where I preferred the dark to the light. Being away from the light meant that I had a kind of freedom that I normally couldn't have. I could do what I wanted. I could say what I wanted. There was no one else around to say otherwise. I was alone in the dark and yet I wasn't lonely. I would stand out there, not able to see what was twenty feet in front of me, and not be afraid. Maybe I should have been because there were certainly dangers, but at the time it didn't matter. To this day I prefer night and the seemingly endless possibilities that comes with it. The fact that you can't see what's out there means you're not limited by anything. Instead everything is possible and maybe a little bit dangerous, but it's never boring.
Nietzsche said "When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you", which I suppose could be interpreted to mean that we become the very thing we fight against. Taken another way when you stare into the darkness and see nothing, are you looking outward or just seeing what's inside?
