At Dark, I Become Loathsome

by Eric LaRocca

At night, I become guilty of crimes I haven’t committed, much less even contemplated. I become a caricature of my former self—a creature to be persecuted, loathed, reviled, detested. At nighttime, I’m something to be tortured until condemned—someone completely and forever misunderstood.

That’s what I am—a secret to be kept, away from everyone, in a dark room.

That’s when the little girl finally answered. “Heaven is a dark room,” she said. “There’s nothing for us there.”

I type in my username, sad_boy, and enter my password.

oh brother

That was something I often thought—that the world was so cruel and unkind that the starless void claimed her, drew her back to a cosmic belt where she now lingers and patiently waits for me.

“Take care of yourself. Sometimes it’s easy to lose ourselves in despair and heartache.

reason. There’s a bravery in those who endure hardship, who withstand agony after agony.

“Children lose their innocence when they realize that adults can hurt them,” he says.