it’s getting dark. i don’t know if you’ve noticed. i noticed—i always do, i feel the loss of light like it’s a loss of air, it’s like the world ends when the sun goes down. i don’t know if it’s the same for you. i hope not.

every night another story closes out. it’s unhealthy to let yourself die every night, i think, just to be born again in the morning, but i have to let things go. i have to let this fade to black. 

i have (had) many friends who loved winter, loved the dark: and when i said my favorite season was summer, they couldn’t understand. that’s alright. i don’t understand a love of the last cold vestiges of the year. i’m clinging to long days like a lifeline (and i think the short days were a relief, for them. a refuge.)

it’s getting dark, dear. i know you’d like to continue living, i know it’s the time for you to come alive—but i have to lay my head down on a pillow, now, and lay a weary soul to rest. it’ll be someone different in the morning, maybe. but it’ll be in the morning. always in the morning.