I cried about my mother tonight; in a way, I lost her to darkness, the black pit of nothing of a different kind. She drank herself to death, died at thirty eight, but the darkness she shed on me started soon after my seventh birthday. In a way she died then, lost everything I thought was love and piled everything I knew to be hate on top of me. Yes, I know the darkness well.

Crying doesn't really help, it won't bring her back, then I don't think I would want that, it won't ease the deep pain in my heart. I just start crying when I lay in bed and look at the ceiling. I don't know what others see when they look up, but I am sure it isn't a well so black that not even a dream could penetrate. I so wanted to have nice dreams again.

Sarina loves black, everything black, and slowly she is showing me that it isn't always bad. The night can be as joyous as a sunny day if you just know how to look at it. I don't see it yet, in fact, with strange creatures using the night to get around I'm not sure if I will ever see the night like Sarina. I hugged my pillow and waited for her to come home for dinner; I need to see her face before I can go to sleep; to know that I am safe.

How do you see the darkness? Do you know what hides in its black shadows just waiting for you to pass by? Or are you like Sarina? Do you see happiness when the sun disappears below the horizon, is swallowed by the sea? If you do, treasure it, protect it, as I know how easily joy can be snatched away, how fleeting happiness is if you take it for granted.

As I said, I know the darkness well, my mother taught me young.