Nyctophobically-philic

On a scorching summer night, when the moon had a moderately dim light – there was this girl in white - freight with thoughts and weighed down by predicament in plural.

She seemed clearly confused regarding the dark light penetrating the transparent pane of the wooden rim window – to pull the curtains or let the light lighten up her room.

The conditioned air keeping her room at a comparatively lower temperature than the outside environment resulted in the room being quiet. There was a deafening silence surrounding her. There was a silent noise in the way the hands of the wall clock moved. 

The room had a blue night lamp perfectly reflecting her porn-coated thoughts – the testosterone was playing its part right. The cold room in the peak summer was amazingly awful. Her eyes were glued to the hexagonal glass patterns on the window pane. Her hand kept caressing her growing smaller confidence hidden in the fat tissues of her stomach.

The room had noticeable absence of human essence because the girl lying on the cotton crumbled sheet had apathetic interest in the worldly happenings. The stretch marks were forming sad smiles on her body which was half dressed. The nameless celebrities in her uterus were waiting for a happy marriage. 

Little did they know that the body they belong to had only theoretical expertise in the matters of love making. At the same time, her mind was getting involved in a lot of things –

The sweet sorrows in her life,

The true myths that took shape,

The clearly misunderstood situations,

The renditions of reality in reality, 

The exact estimations gone drastically wrong,

The calculated risks of living,

The calm storm in her head,

The cold sweat on her forehead,

The false hopes,

The forgotten memories,

The tragic comedies of love,

The harmless abuses,

The definite maybe, 

The delicious torment, 

The silent screams, 

The white lies, 

The minor disasters, 

The parallel connection of incidents, 

The well-preserved ruins in heart, 

The valuable junks on the skin, 

The traumatic bonding, 

The tentative conclusion, 

And everything in recent history.

Darkness bothered the nyctophobic girl but dark lights attracted her – strange kind of attractions that repulsed the phobic nature.

She repulsed the eerie silence of the night but loved the reassuring tranquility it offers. 

Best of the oxymorons were captured within the room that night. 

From phobia to Philia.