After Dark
You can look at the sky and see no stars. It depends on where you live, but, I am always fascinated when I look up and I see the stars. That is because I am elsewhere.
I am not where the sun shines, where the heat irritates my skin, where I cannot look up without squinting my eyes near shut.
I am in the cold. Where the wind brushing past my face makes me upset. Where the sensation that my hands burn not because it is hot but because it is cold, infuriates me.
The cold where no one I truly know is around. I go around—talking to all who I can. Smiling and inviting them. I choose and pick my words with some, I express myself too much, or not at all.
We have differing interests, or we have no similar interests at all except our reassuring cultures.
And I worry about things that I do not need to worry about. I worry about hypotheticals and change that has yet to come.
I worry about worrying.
I talk too much, or I do not talk at all. When I choose to not talk at all, I lie that I do not talk at all. I talk sometimes. I pretend that I am okay with it.
I will return to where all call my name. Where all seek me not for me to take advantage of opportunities, but for me to bring the comfort they need.
To be the shining sun that dies trying to save their lives.
