The sun rose where the ocean ended. It’s serene, like the first day of spring. The soles of my feet hugged by the moist dirt. I don’t want to move an inch. I’m afraid of losing perfection.
I enjoy seeing the sun rise after I’ve spent the entire night awake, staring into the darkness, wondering if the sun will ever return or if it has finally turned its back on us and set us loose to despair like a pack of rabidly wild animals. As the sun rises, I know everything is back to normal. We have just been granted a new chance.
It brings hope, but sometimes I wish I could marinate beneath the dark blanket of our lonely world while everyone else sleeps just a little bit longer. The soul of this world lays hidden in the shadows.
The soothing night will soon turn into a bright calamity of poor souls wandering the streets in noisy vehicles.
Now I must inject myself into the real world and interact with people because its morning and it’s the normal thing to do; but all I want to do is sleep
At 4:35 in the afternoon my eyelids crack open against their will. The sun has reached the perfect position to send its goons through the curtains and strike. The entire house is awake and I can tell by the way they’re looking at me, they’re thinking I’m a lazy shit for waking up so late; but I probably created a masterpiece behind that brown bedroom door, right next to the 3 week old pile of clothes, naked bed, 4 dirty dishes and 8 glasses of water, juice and coffee with milk; all piled on top of each other like a 3 foot leaning tower of Ibiza.
I feel comfortable because I know that in less than 4 hours the sun will sink into a deep sleep again. A few more hours to ponder about the possibilities of a dark world again. The world has taught me that there is no such thing as complete darkness.
Tomorrow night I’ll wait for the sun to rise like I’ve done every night in order to sleep peacefully.
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