Before it gets dark
I'll forever embrace my insomnia if it keeps me awake to write.
I remember that silly Green Day song ‘Wake me up when September ends’. Mum used to play it on our way back from our holiday, and I don’t need to listen to it to see the green mountains from the north rolling down as we drove to the dry-flat-malt land where I belong, where the present hits like a beam of sunlight.
I need to go back to school and I feel like Rod Stewart in “Maggie May”.
I’ll lock up the chaos and the long days by keeping it up with the night, by scheduling my emotions into a short time frame so I won’t allow myself to feel any passion, happiness or hurt.
I’ll dive into the grey, accepting this cycle every single year, embracing the greek tragedy Nietzsche described, keeping up with the voices in my head, cancelling the outer noise with symphonies of silence and isolation that will never harmonise.
I need to sit down and do my homework. I need to be accountable for all the self-imposed demands that keep me on the run.
I need to get my grades right. I need to hit all the marks that no one cares about. I need to raise the bar so high so it can hit the outer space and travel in time.
I already got a ticket back. Days are getting shorter and hope won’t make them last.
I have to make it to the airport in time. It’s already too soon to be late.
I have to catch my shadow before it gets dark.
Thanks for reading!
Yours,
H.