the light fantastic

I tend to forget how nice the feel of clean sheets is. That, and fresh towels are probably my two favourite things about hotels. But seeing as how I don’t have a laundry service at my disposal, such things aren’t changed daily and as I err on the side of laziness when it comes to some things, it’s always a pleasant surprise to find fresh, clean sheets slipping over my skin.

But enough useless banter. This week has been full of miserably sleepless nights followed by harsh, dry days that drag on from hour to fruitless hour. These last couple of months I have been looking for some kind of universal solution to my constant struggle with the apparent futility and meaninglessness of existence, awaiting some blinding epiphany or divine inspiration. But in the few days just past, I have come to peace with the fact that there will be no such respite coming. The seemingly Sisyphean labours of my days are set to go on as always.

There has not purely been soul-crushing defeat however, as through hours of solemn thought some things about myself and the way I feel about things have been given a great clarity and it would be fair to say that I know some parts of myself better now than I might have done not so long ago. Whether or not such knowledge makes a person better in themselves or happier, I couldn’t say, all I know is that some things that once cloudy are now well clear.

A dear friend of mine will soon be leaving me, at best for some months. I don’t believe the parting will be kind to me.

Some folks are like a beacon of light on the midnight sea, they shine with such brightness that you can see yourself, where you lay and all things in such glowing, beautiful colours with them near. When you stay close to them, the light they shine lets them see yourself in such brilliance that the sight of yourself so bright fills you with joy and excitement. You fall in love with them, and the good that you can see in yourself when they are near you. But when they are gone, and the light shines no longer, the world that looks upon you sees only a silhouette, and all you can make out are shades of grey.

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