Mother dear, you always taught me to be good, to choose carefully, that I walked a straight and narrow line of safety and that the world down below would ruin me. You taught me to turn away and watch my tongue, for fear of being misheard. So I saw and spoke everything. You meant well but I will not be made blind. Father dear, I understand now why everything hurts so much. When you take in the whole world at once, every color is too bright and every sound is too loud. Infinity is as painful as it is beautiful. But that does not excuse the selfish tears you drowned me in.

At home I sleep upon my memories. They rise from the mismatched shoe boxes of mementos and weave their way into my mattress, my pillow, and eventually my mind. I dream of those I’ve met in passing, and never those that live in my heart. Once I dreamed I owned six small owlets, and my heart sank when I awoke. In the morning light I wish to close my eyes and return to the misty wood.

I once closed my eyes and found myself sitting in a cable car with two heavy suitcases. When it stalled I took my bag and walked above the earth. I stumbled until I dropped my luggage and then I plummeted into the white blanket of flowers. The garden wall keeps on crumbling. The autumnsong keeps playing.

I opened my window and waved to an empty street. Hello, how are you? When not even silence answered I turned away. There is peace in being alone, but not in loneliness. My friends are scattered across the dirty streets of the earth, and my heart’s former tenants have faded to scars. The nature of our relationship turned into that of a stellar collapse- awesome in its burning glory. I am not alone, but in the quiet moments I wonder.

In my mind I wish to walk upon the salt flats, to see nothing for miles but sky above, and sky below. Does the moon know that it’s beautiful when it looks at its fragmented reflection? Do stars miss home when they fall? I lay in the dark water and stare. The stars bleed into the earth and I am made whole again.