We see our restful waking moments like there always coming. Those moments of clarity, when things are the way we wish they’d always been.
These moments are the ones we see often, but struggle to find in our darkest days.
Dark days stand like monoliths in the waking night. They’re the gargoyles on the church steeple, trying to fend off the things we hide.
Gargoyles keep the church safe, keep it holy. Gargoyles were once meant to guard churches and protect them from evil. Now they’re only there as ornaments or to scare small children.
These winged protectors of the church act, staring into the dark night. Guarding, keeping and watching over the church grounds.
In our time we don’t have these things to watch over us. The closest we’ve come is the characters of books, comics and graphic novels. Even in television we don’t have the characters that live in the things I’ve mentioned.
As I write I think about the differences of the different mediums. As I read so many genres I find myself staring into dark days, waiting for a gargoyle to rescue me, or at least to be my protector.
Dark days stand out, sometimes better than the ones filled with light.
I write best when the light is dim. I see things in my darkest days that the light only covers up, blinding me to see the shadows I miss, the darkness I feel, but can’t grasp.
These dark times are my most creative. Finding these dark times have been limited lately, which is good for my psyche, but not my writing.
There are times I fight to get back to that dark place. I feel most comfortable in the darkest nights, in the shadows everyone is afraid of.
When I write in these dark times it shows. It stands out, showing through everything.
I would like to get back to those dark times if only to get some great writing done. That’s the problem with happiness, it clouds my mind and makes the writing harder.
it’s not the clarity I seek of the light, it’s the pain of the dark I wish to find. In the dark I feel like I want to be, not who I pretend to be.