Sleep in a swelter, the fan in the window only almost cooling enough, and just precisely not. I wake early, feeling every square inch of my skin, knowing every pulsating breath of my blood. The ad that pops up on my phone says a Friends-themed cruise is coming, and you think how nothing can ever live up to our imagination, so why not live in it instead? I don't mean that like defeat, like cynicism, I mean it like how delicious pink cotton candy whipped cream feels eaten right off your finger, I mean it like opportunity.
The monster is leaving, do you see it retreating with its tail tucked? I do not feel fear anymore, and still how hard it is to resume the life that came before. She sends an image of summers long ago, not too long ago but enough that we knew none of this darkness, and I wonder if I will able smile like that again. This year has made me tired more than fearful, resigned more than averse, I cannot forgive it this apathy under my eyes. Every day is a chance to dream it to be different.
I am forever overwhelmed by this imagination. I don't mean that like defeat, either.
There is no other way I would live,
if the choice were mine.
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