journal · prose

The Night

That night was beautiful. I floated through it, as if in a dream, at once content and longing, aching for each fantasy, each word to spring to life. In those blessed moments, I let myself become uncomplicated and I was at peace. Verging on elation. I allowed myself to become intoxicated by your simple sweetness, dropped worry, sampled living in the here and now, pushed away tomorrow as though the morning would never dawn. I was still falling, then. But the sun hailed, bright and scrutinizing, questioning my every desire, my choices, my life. The ground was fast approaching and I could see nothing waiting for me at the bottom. But where else was I to go? All the quotes and prose and pretty words in the world can’t save me now.

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