one day you woke up feeling lighter. this was different. this was hope. it made no sense and could not be denied. the following day it was gone. the light was shining and the birds were singing but all you saw and heard was dead again. what stood out for you now was the recollection of yesterday’s hope, wanting another taste of that. so you got out of bed a little earlier. you saw the slightest smile at the edges of your lips in the mirror. you were able to sing some morose song by the Cure in your head.
when dawn came I got myself up and hit the street. you know you’re blessed when all what’s inside you — all your thoughts and feelings stirred together into a psychosocial paste — has the same consistency as a cool and placid sunday morning, touched by sound and light