The Tiny, Glowing Red Eye of the Television Screen in a Dark Bedroom

Dear Delyara, It is 4:12 AM, and I have been staring at the tiny, unblinking red standby light of the television for an hour. It is the only illumination in the room, casting a faint, bloody glow over the edge of the wardrobe and the frame of the mirror. In the total dark, that small red dot feels like a tiny, watchful eye, a permanent reminder that the machine is always awake, waiting for a signal to flood the room with noise and light. It’s a lot like the anxiety that sits at the back of my own mind—that small, permanent spark of alertness that refuses to turn completely off, always ready to wake up the whole system the moment a stray thought touches the switch. I turned my back to it, pulled the blanket over my ear, and tried to find the dark.