I sit alone, the darkness swallowing me whole. It surrounds me like a suffocating blanket, but I oddly find some comfort in it. It scares people away, leaving me to my thoughts. I don't mind being alone, at first.
But then my thoughts turn against me, calling me useless, a fool. 'You can't just sit there all your life, you're a waste of space, a nothing!' I try to ignore, too used to sitting to do anything else. I convince myself that this is for the best.
Finally, I give in. The thought of supporting myself scares me, but I try to stand. But the darkness only tightens it's grip on me, refusing to yield; refusing to lift. I try to scream, to cry for help, but no sound escapes my throat. The darkness swallows it greedily, my once comfort turned into my worst nightmare.
I curl up, try to pretend that I'm okay, that the darkness and my own berating thoughts are not there. I am drowning, and don't have the energy to try to keep swimming, to keep living. I sit there, willing people t