This felt safer in the dark, where nothing asks to be explained and no one is watching closely enough to misunderstand it. In the dark, I don’t have to edit myself into something more acceptable. I don’t have to decide what this feeling means or where it belongs. It can just exist.
There’s a certain honesty that only shows up when the world goes quiet. When expectations fall away and I’m not managing how something sounds, looks, or lands. In the dark, I don’t need to be consistent with who I am during the day. I can admit things without immediately correcting them.
What felt safer wasn’t secrecy. It was privacy. The absence of judgment. The freedom to acknowledge something without turning it into a decision. In the light, feelings are interrogated. In the dark, they’re allowed to breathe.
I don’t talk about how some thoughts soften when I’m tired. How memory can feel warmer when it isn’t under scrutiny. How wanting doesn’t always mean reaching. These things feel too exposed when the lights are on, too easy to mislabel as weakness or confusion.
In the dark, I can recognize the feeling without letting it take the wheel. I can hold it gently and let it pass without explanation. That safety doesn’t come from hiding. It comes from not being required to perform clarity before I’m ready.
This felt safer in the dark because it didn’t ask to become anything else. It didn’t demand resolution. It didn’t need to be understood by anyone but me.
Some truths don’t want daylight. They want quiet.
Final Thought: Privacy Isn’t the Same as Avoidance
Not everything needs to be examined to be real.
Self-Awareness Disclaimer
This isn’t secrecy or denial. It’s discernment. This felt safer in the dark because it wasn’t meant for action, interpretation, or disclosure. It was meant to be acknowledged — and left where it belongs.
