Ever get that weird, prickling sensation of joy when you’re walking through a graveyard at dusk? Or maybe you find yourself scrolling through vintage medical illustrations of Victorian surgery tools while your coffee gets cold. It’s okay. Honestly, it’s more than okay. There is a specific, hauntingly beautiful aesthetic found in the dark things i adore, and for most of us, it isn't about being "edgy" or miserable. It’s about honesty. We live in a world that’s obsessed with toxic positivity—those "Live, Laugh, Love" signs are everywhere—but some of us find more comfort in a crumbling gothic ruin than a brightly lit shopping mall.
The fascination with the macabre isn't some new Gen Z trend or a leftover remnant of the 2000s emo era. It's deep. It's primal. Humans have been obsessed with the "shadow side" of existence since we first painted charcoal figures on cave walls.
The Psychology Behind Why We Love the Shadows
Psychologists actually have a name for this. It’s often linked to "benign masochism," a term coined by Dr. Paul Rozin. Basically, it’s the thrill of experiencing something "dangerous" or "dark" from a place of absolute safety. When you listen to a true crime podcast or stare at a painting of a wilting rose, your brain gets a hit of dopamine. You’re exploring the edges of mortality and sadness without actually being in peril. It’s like eating a habanero pepper; it burns, but you know you won’t die.
Most people think liking "dark things" means you're depressed. Wrong.
Actually, many people who embrace the darker side of art and life are remarkably well-adjusted. By acknowledging that life involves decay, mystery, and the unknown, you're practicing a form of radical acceptance. You aren't running away from the inevitable. You’re making friends with it. Carl Jung talked extensively about the "Shadow Self"—the parts of our personality we hide away because society finds them "too much." When we engage with the dark things i adore, we’re giving that shadow self a little bit of room to breathe.
Memento Mori: The Art of Remembering Death
Let’s talk about history for a second. In the Victorian era, "dark things" were mainstream. They had "mourning jewelry" made from the hair of deceased loved ones. They took "post-mortem" photographs. To a modern observer, that sounds horrifying, right? But to them, it was a way to keep the person close. It was a tangible link to the ephemeral nature of life.
👉 See also: Hilarious Cinco de Mayo Memes and Why We Can’t Stop Sharing Them
The concept of Memento Mori—Latin for "remember you must die"—is a cornerstone of this lifestyle. It sounds bleak, but it’s actually a call to action. If you know the clock is ticking, that morning cup of tea tastes better. The sunlight hitting the floorboards looks more precious.
Finding Beauty in Decay and Abandoned Spaces
There is a specific subculture obsessed with "Urban Exploration" or Urbex. Why? Why do people risk trespassing charges to photograph a moldy, collapsing asylum? Because there is a profound silence there. You’re seeing the "after" of human civilization. These dark things i adore—the peeling wallpaper, the rusted bedframes, the vines reclaiming a brick wall—tell a story that a brand-new skyscraper never could. They represent the passage of time.
- Aesthetic Nihilism: The idea that nothing lasts, so why not enjoy the beauty of the breakdown?
- Tactile History: Touching a wall that hasn't been painted since 1954 feels like time travel.
- The Uncanny: That feeling where something is familiar but "off." Like a doll with one eye missing. It’s uncomfortable, and that discomfort makes us feel alive.
It's not just about old buildings, though. It's in the fashion we wear. Velvet that’s a little too heavy for the season. Heavy silver rings with occult symbols. Deep, oxblood red lipstick that looks almost like a bruise. These choices are a visual language. They say, "I see the world differently."
The Science of Dark Music and Emotional Release
Ever wonder why some of us blast minor-key, heavy metal, or dark ambient tracks when we’re actually feeling fine? A study published in the journal Scientific Reports found that "sad" or "dark" music can actually evoke positive emotions. It’s called a "prolactin" response. When you listen to music that sounds grieving or intense, your brain thinks you’re actually in pain and releases prolactin to soothe you. But since you aren’t actually hurting, you just get the "soothing" part. It’s a biological hack for relaxation.
Artists like Chelsea Wolfe or the dark, synth-heavy scores of 80s horror movies provide a container for emotions that are too big for everyday conversation. It’s a catharsis.
Why This Isn't Just a Phase
"You'll grow out of it," they said.
I didn't. Most of us don't. Because the dark things i adore aren't a costume you put on; they're a lens through which you view the world. As we age, the reality of loss becomes more frequent. You lose grandparents, friends, pets. If your entire aesthetic is built on sunshine and rainbows, those losses can shatter you. But if you’ve spent your life finding the grace in a skeletal leaf or the poetry in a thunderstorm, you have a foundation. You have a vocabulary for grief.
There's a reason why Wednesday became a global phenomenon or why horror movies are one of the only genres that consistently make money at the box office. People are hungry for the truth. And the truth is often dark, messy, and complicated.
Breaking the Stigma
If your family thinks you're weird for liking taxidermy or reading books about the Black Plague, remind them that curiosity isn't a crime. Collecting oddities—like antique glass eyes or dried insects—is a form of curation. It’s an appreciation for the complexity of the natural world.
Think about the "Cabinet of Curiosities" from the 16th century. These were the precursors to modern museums. They were filled with "dark" things: preserved specimens, strange bones, "magical" artifacts. People weren't scared of them; they were fascinated by the mystery of the unknown. We’ve lost some of that wonder in our sterile, high-tech world. Bringing a bit of that darkness back into our homes is a way of reclaiming that wonder.
How to Embrace the Dark Aesthetic Without Losing the Light
You don't have to live in a cave. You can love the dark things i adore while still being a kind, productive member of society. It’s all about balance.
- Curate your space. Don't just buy "spooky" junk from a big-box store in October. Look for pieces with history. A tarnished brass candlestick. A framed botanical print of poisonous plants.
- Read the classics. Go back to Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe, or Shirley Jackson. See how they used darkness to explore the human condition.
- Find your community. Whether it’s online forums for "dark academia" or local groups that appreciate gothic architecture, you aren't alone.
- Practice mindfulness in the shadows. Next time it rains, don't complain. Go outside. Smell the wet earth (petrichor). Watch the way the light turns grey and moody. It’s a specific kind of peace.
Life isn't a 24/7 highlight reel. It’s a chiaroscuro painting—a high contrast between light and dark. Without the shadows, the light doesn't have any definition. It just washes everything out. By embracing the darker corners of our interests, we’re actually seeing the full picture.
Actionable Steps for the Darkly Inclined
If you're looking to dive deeper into this world, start small. You don't need a hearse in your driveway to appreciate the macabre.
First, start a "Dark Journal." Instead of writing about what you’re grateful for (though you can do that too), write about a mystery that fascinates you or a dream that felt unsettlingly beautiful.
Second, visit your local historical cemetery. Not to be disrespectful, but to read the epitaphs. There is so much love carved into those stones. It’s a powerful reminder of what really matters.
📖 Related: Black Below the Knee Boots: Why You Probably Only Need One Pair
Third, look into "Dark Tourism" responsibly. Visit sites of historical significance that aren't necessarily "happy." The goal isn't to be a voyeur of tragedy, but to witness and remember.
Finally, stop apologizing for your interests. If someone asks why you’re reading a book about the history of the guillotine, tell them the truth: because history is fascinating, and humans are capable of incredible, terrible things. Knowing that makes the "good" parts of humanity seem even more miraculous.
The dark things i adore are just another way of saying "I love the truth of being alive." Every ending is a beginning for something else—even if that something else is just moss growing over a fallen stone. There is beauty in the breakdown. You just have to be brave enough to look at it.
Next Steps for Exploration:
Start by exploring the works of Edward Gorey or the photography of Francesca Woodman. These artists captured the intersection of the eerie and the elegant perfectly. Then, look into the "Green Burial" movement, which blends environmentalism with a natural, "dark" approach to the end of life. Embracing these interests can lead to a much deeper, more nuanced appreciation for the life you're living right now.