Today feels like the death of something so cherished yet hated: the death of my era of beginnings. Is my life doomed into monotony from here on out? To drab rain squalls and gloomy unfamiliar ceilings? To cold nights, colder days and a pallor onset by relative invisibility.
Its at night that my fears rise, tepid at first but then they flood out fast. I now realize that this is unsurprising, that my mind at its most vulnerable will be less able to cope with the anxieties I am normally able to keep at bay. So I guess I’m afraid of nighttime now.
Perambulation: the act of walking (pretty disappointing definition right, for a word that sounds so interesting? I guess that’s life).
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