It's strange how comforting the dark can be.

When you can't breathe, so you burst into a bathroom and desperate fumble for a light switch.

You turn it off, and all the sudden you discover what air tastes like again. The darkness envelopes you in a blackened hug, and the world doesn't feel as heavy anymore.

Maybe the blindness helps. No one can see the brokenness in your eyes or the wetness on your face. And the silence, save for your rugged breathing, it's almost as comforting as the dark. At least the silence is honest, and doesn't pretend it's there for you only to leave.

It's strange how the darkness becomes your friends, especially after multiple attacks a day. It's ironic, because you always hated the dark as a kid. Now there's nothing to fear but you own mind, isn't there?