I’m not afraid of the dark. Not really. I’m afraid of what reveals itself in the dark, real or imagined. At the age of three, after being storied and back-rubbed and tucked into bed, I would call my mom back into my room. “There are spiders on the wall,” I whispered, pointing a small index finger towards the nearest dim corner. She sat on the edge of my bed and assured me no such spiders existed. But they did exist, if only in my head.
I never outgrew the ability to see the invisible…
To read the rest of my essay on fear and learning to run in the dark for Barren Magazine, click here. As always, thanks for reading!
