Cold Light

I’m at the point of my life where I just want to sit in the corner, cry and let the day pass. I did it yesterday. I sat at the corner of my room and just thought about how I will go about my day tomorrow. I knew I can’t always do this. I have to leave my corner sometime—but I felt so helpless. I held out my hand, hoping someone would take it, but I caught nothing but the warm breeze from my window.

The sun was shining so brightly. How ironic. I felt so cold inside, as if the world was mocking me. I watch as the specks of dust dance in the sunshine. No patterns at all. Just random movements—so careless and free.

I went to sleep that night feeling horrible. I can feel the disgust creeping into my skin, running through my veins, etching into my mind. The darkness was swallowing me. The nights were always so difficult.

I thought of an escape, an unspeakable escape. And I stared out the window where the sunshine was. The sky now emits a cold light. It was dark but not really dark, I thought. It was dim, but there was light, just enough for me to see the room I locked myself in.

It was dim, but it was light, nonetheless.

I can still see the door. I can still the road outside.

It was weak, but it was light, nonetheless.

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