L

That daily dilemma between choosing an extra hour of sleep and reading another chapter...

A rage like mine has no sound. It has no quiet either. It just looms. Like a menacing shadow. It reminds you that though I do not speak, I feel. I feel rage. And the disquiet of that rage grips every second, clawing painfully into your skin. I am here. I am here. I am angry.

But if I sleep, the day ends. And another day dawns. A day filled with routine. With people. Without me. At night, when the world sleeps, I am with me. With me. I am me. I can be me.

You breathe fire and rain over me. I burn and I freeze. I am powerless as you storm over me. Cease, please. I am not who you want me to be. I need to feel the seasons course in my veins as I change. I cannot will change on me as easily as you can. You may flutter and fly. I cannot. I need to swim. Feel the current. And let it carry me as I drift dreamily towards hope and new horizons.