get a dog and take it to japan @amazingphil @danielhowell

Morning goblins

I think I just stepped on a different dimension, it looked awfully like a busy street the morning after a restful night. A cautiously masked alien, running on minimum sleep, blending in with the purposeful.

I was walking, a sprint against a ticking clock, a face drained from life while others screamed a cause.

Crisp morning air has a certain violence to it. It’s cold and determined to wake you, it whispers duties in your ears. It slaps your face relentlessly, leaving a blush that marks a start.

Frantically walking, on a mission to rectify past mistakes, I was soon attacked by the overwhelming freshness of breakfasts ready to happen. Bakeries, filling the streets with the aroma of baked goods. It’s a strange controversy, the frosty air and the heartwarming scent, magic potions tucked in puff pastry, to get you through the day. It reminded me of everything, and everything has this tendency to stab my chest every time I recall it.

I’m scared of morning people. I want to grab their shoulders and shake them and ask them, how can they be so put together, in such an hour. Productivity is sprinkled on their coats like dandruff, they shake it around and it never actually leaves them. I’m scared at how ready they look, to face such an early start.

I keep my hands in my pockets. And I could say it’s because it’s cold, or that it helps me stand a bit more straight, but I’d only give you half the truth. In fact, I’m clenching my feasts. I’m closing and hiding in my palms a valuable nothingness. I know that what I’m protecting it’s probably not worth it. I’m not even sure there’s something that I need to protect. Even so, I close it in my arms to keep it safe.

There’s cruelty in the light. Light has been so unforgiving. My heart felt exposed and the pain found its way in me, like sun invades everything when comes morning.

I hold dark dearly. It’s in the palms of my hands, demanding, screaming. “I’ve kept you company. I forgave you. I comforted you. I’m what you know best.” I can hear it, I can feel, making its claim on me, picking parts of me apart, just as harshly as light once did.

I know where I am. Familiar footsteps on well known streets, just half an hour away from my cocoon. And even so, I never felt so utterly lost. There was a consciousness aware of the happenings, familiar with everything, duty as a compass. But my soul. Oh my soul. Taking in everything, yet feeling nothing, nothing at all. People were threats and bakeries were oppressive and birds were announcing a light that scared me.

I used to be one of them. Up with the first burst of sunlight, off to be productive, presented with no other choice but working. Am I supposed to always look like I’m ready for life at seven on the morning? And what will I do with my darkness, screaming how I owe to it, for standing with me on the hard times? And if owing to light scared me off to darkness, can the same welcoming darkness hold me as a hostage?

I don’t need those leashes tying me to the dark. I’m bruised all over from the chains that are dragging me to the light.

I want to be free. I want to be able to go back and forth with no loss. I crave the choice. A strong pair of feet so I can swing and walk and run and jump and wonder around and be wherever I want to. And I don’t want any of those things to hurt anymore.