Certain people, when without misery, create a world of woe within their own mind. Miserable is a place of intoxicating comfort in a way that a blanket is to a child long out grown the need for warmth. I loath the cold. So did she but that and misery are simply an insufficient bind. No longer shrouded in melodrama a discomfort previously unknown arises. At this moment one of my favorite quotes echoes as I fall from the tight rope that I have been walking for weeks. "I was born for the storm, and the clam does not suit me."
abandoned.
three times.
What now?
Little trust, and even less hope. Purgatory. The greatest sunrise in ages could be presenting itself in the most exalted fashion, the first rays of sunlight following years of darkness. What a fool to use that blanket to provide shade. Who chooses darkness over light, damp cold over radiant heat, misery over joy? Someone with sensitive eyes resulting from years in an aphotic environment that's who.
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