(no subject)
Last night, through my window that won't open because the paint sticks in humid weather, I saw a firefly. It blinked for a long time and stayed right in the same place, like a reflection or a light bulb. A little greenish glow on my roof.
That sort of light doesn't bother me. Daylight's the problem. Waking up can be devastating sometimes. I'll open my eyes and immediately let them fall closed. I'll bury myself in the covers and pretend it's night again. There's too much to worry about in the light. Too many colors and too many thoughts and too many feelings.
It's best in the early hours of the morning before the sun comes up. If I don't let myself sleep, then I can focus better. Only certain things stand out. Only certain people. Only certain memories. I can watch the firefly and wonder what he's doing out there and what other pretty fireflies are watching him blink on and off.
Sometimes it's only worth living in the dark. I think I must be hiding again.
That sort of light doesn't bother me. Daylight's the problem. Waking up can be devastating sometimes. I'll open my eyes and immediately let them fall closed. I'll bury myself in the covers and pretend it's night again. There's too much to worry about in the light. Too many colors and too many thoughts and too many feelings.
It's best in the early hours of the morning before the sun comes up. If I don't let myself sleep, then I can focus better. Only certain things stand out. Only certain people. Only certain memories. I can watch the firefly and wonder what he's doing out there and what other pretty fireflies are watching him blink on and off.
Sometimes it's only worth living in the dark. I think I must be hiding again.