Psychic Darkening

Illusions fascinate me. Dreams amuse me. Fools' mirrors of desire that shatter at the slightest pressure. I can and I will darken this place I call my own. Bobby used to call me a night elf, mostly because of my pointed ears and the eerie music I adore so much. Even Aiman got spooked by the background music. Many friends can only think of one word to describe me. Mysterious. Why? With so much pressure mounting, and so many illusions unweaving, I realise I would rather be blind than see truth. I would rather be deaf than hear these words. Of course, no one will really know if this current wave of darkness that engulfs me is yet another illusion of my making. I have but one chance to set things right. To the people I've hurt in the past, I can only offer my apologies, but I know it will not erase the pain I've caused. This endless waltz tires me. Even worse, I've been haunted by images of a terrible death in my dreams, in my waking hours. I see her face; I see her shattered dreams, I see her death. I do not know how to banish this spirit that stalks my dreams. I've grown increasingly dark and enigmatic. While I do not know if this is a bad thing in itself, I do know that my reticence will set many teeth grinding. My resolve cannot be broken, I will weave an illusion of light to conceal the darkness that I feel. I speak in riddles, and I fear I will never be able to give a straight answer. I will use the upcoming weekend to darken my space.
Bring back the illusion of contentment.