a daylight dream

It’s late into the night and you’re not at home but I’m in our little plant-laden balcony, my eyes fixated on the vast space before me; on those little glittery stars flickering in haphazard frequencies that I am very fond of— aligning with the very depth of my heart. And it’s okay that you’re not at home. Dearest, I respect this distance. We’ve been distant for a long time and it didn’t weaken our unearthly bond. We have agreed upon the notion of us treading disparate paths, yet always bound by love. So it’s okay, my dear.  You never have to be here so that we can be together. I place my hands on my heart. I close my eyes and allow the canvas of our sky to lay still and silent in my mind. Gently, I place my head on the pillow and drift into a mystical sleep, filled with peace and quiet, breaths that leave my chest to let go fears and bring in love. The first thing I wake up to is the sound of the blackbirds chirping against the faint peachy rays of light emerging ...

A few days ago, I woke up and went directly outside of the bed, like I always do. But as my feet touched the ground, I felt something different in the way I was moving. I went to the sofa and closed my eyes—  it was happening again. My eyes started tearing up as I sensed this swelling, the approaching brain fog, this feeling of helplessness and hopelessness creeping to my mind. I didn’t want to face it. I wished I could just go back to bed and rewind the night because the day is long and how would I ever be able to make this day beautiful like this, in  this  state? I closed my eyes and tried to remember love. It didn’t work. I spent an hour researching quick fixes to remove the bloat, to improve my mood, to make me feel better. Because today, I want to love the people around me. I want to think of something other than just this stupid sensation of not being well because I was tired of it. I was sick of it. I cried again because I was so scared to fac...