I remember when I stopped.
trying to escape the sunlight.
Used to live under the stars
and watch the moon
traverse her way across Heaven.
I used to tell myself
that the cold anonymity of the dark
was “freedom,”
but in truth,
I was convinced
I was a monster,
and I lived in fear.
There is a place
for the broken and alone.
In the dark corners,
abandoned buildings,
under bridges.
When we were kids,
our whole world
was our bedroom.
That’s why we thought
the monsters lived
under our beds
and in our closets.
But, as it was then,
it was all a lie.
A fantasy.
A story meant to bend our minds.
I woke up
one dissembled morning.
Lost to myself
and fragmented in unknown ways.
The sun was burning up the day.
Summertime,
the host of unrequited depression.
I dressed,
and went outside,
convinced that I would turn to dust,
or burn to ash.
Instead,
all I felt
was warmth.
Calm, beautiful stillness,
and blue skies stretching on forever.
White clouds painted in,
as if the world were welcoming me
to this new lie.
I can still
chase the moon through the night.
I was no monster then,
no more than I am now.
But I don’t fear the light,
like I once did.
I don’t hide in dark corners anymore.
I am in the open.
DJR – 2023
