Dawn always makes my heart sink and my mind restless. The darkness of the night was a protective cover, and the morning reminded me of the constant hell that my life had morphed into and that the peace of the night was but a dream, fleeting. Even though those days are buried in many years ago my body hasn’t forgotten. It’s amazing how much sorrow and fear I can store. It seems like the more sensitive you are the more you notice and consequently store.
It’s like the first sun rays are so sharp that they burst my bubble of safety that felt invincible in the night. I feel exposed and my wounds translucent; naked confusion.
Dawn makes me nauseous by its intrusion. How rude.