Fumbling For The Light Switch

It seems that as I get older the chances of waking up in a relaxing, pleasant manner are steadily growing slimmer and slimmer. These days I often wake with a startle or a jump and generally with a frantic disposition. This is mostly due to two factors: 1) I usually have commitments that require me to be up and ready before dawn and 2) I awake to my cellphone's ring tone that happens to be the opening guitar solo to Guns N' Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine." I'm not saying it's a bad song or anything, but I gotta tell you, it's not the most pleasant of sounds to break the morning silence, which is probably why I chose it as my alarm in the first place.
Once Guns N' Roses begins blaring, I shoot up from my bed/couch in a pitch black room, and so the panic ensues. To keep myself from going back to sleep I usually plant my phone the night before in a remote place from where I sleep so I am forced to get up to turn my cell's alarm off. You'd think that I'd have the mental awareness to actually remember where I'd put my cell, but I've found this is seldom the case. As "Sweet Child O' Mine" repeats and repeats, I stumble over my own lazy feet, stub a toe or two on a chair, and desperately try to navigate myself despite my inevitable blindness. After getting some of my bearings back, I fumble around letting my hands desperately search out either the table lamp or the switch on the wall, so that the morning can once again return into some sane state of silence rather than the mini rock concert being held by my phone.
In the same situation as my phone, you'd think that after living in a place for around 27 weeks you'd get the hang of where the light switches and lamps are; unfortunately, I have not (although I must admit that this is probably a problem centralized to me and myself). Try as a I might, I can't see through the blindness and find the light switch. Instead, I end up fumbling and feeling for something--anything, but I can't feel anything. All I feel is a blank cold wall or an empty table, and the song plays on, like a broken recording, as if its only purpose was to mock me and prod me on in my tireless search for light, for clarity, for peace. It is in these brief moments in the early morning while I'm fumbling for the light switch that I can actually fathom what it would be like if there never was a switch to flip, and that, that itself can only be described as utter and complete fear. Not a state of fear, not a type of fear, just fear. When we were young we were afraid of the dark. This fear was often seen as comical or foolish, but this was only because those who were not afraid had come to know that darkness was only temporary. However, I do believe that, like most things that we experienced as children, our fear was in some way a legitimate and sensible reaction.
It's true: while I am here and now there will be darkness. Wherever I may turn darkness may pursue or be for who can deny that I or this place is not jaded, tainted, or consumed by a dark veil? But, at the same time, who can deny a light switch or hope or salvation?
I may not always find that switch right away and there are some days that I believe I would be content asleep in the darkness; nevertheless, that switch will always be there, constant, because it's me who's lost, it's me who is unwilling or unsure, and like waking up every morning, it's a daily search--fumbling for the light switch.