I have always loved how the sun looked every morning at 6 a.m.

in my school
parking lot. It paints the ground a darker shade of gold and leaves orange reflections on my
car’s window. I love how it doesn’t burn. I love how it isn’t cold. I could forever lost in my own
thought with its warm vibrance. Absorbing my soul into the deepest pit of surrealism feeling
with the sight of it.
Often the sun companied me with the pain in my chest. I’m still here, nevertheless. I
stared into it for a solid 15 minutes when I had the time. It would be the only way I can
reduce the pain and fill the void of my longing for connections. At least I could cover up my
wounds for a little time. At least I could stop thinking about my existence for a while. At least I
could pretend to be something I’m not and open more access to find my essence for a
quarter.
I hate to walk away from the morning sun. My face turned darker and I hated how I
could see my shadow as I stepped my feet faster. In an hour, the orange sun had gone away
without saying goodbyes to me. Only then I should wait for at least 10 hours for it to come
back. I hate to spend those 10 hours with nothing really cheerful for me. It’s a long wait run
for my patience to keep.
For the next 10 hours, I know I should hold down any emotions. I have no free will
inside the walls. Or I might have it. Either way, I still wouldn’t know how to function properly.
It feels so draining around people, ironically for me, I want them to notice my presence.
Sometimes I wonder what will happen if I suddenly jump off the balcony and end my
life. And left a message, blaming some people who did me dirty for it. I guess I am a trouble,
but it’s an inevitable thought that keeps circulating in my brain on a daily basis. After that, I
feel like they could actually see my value and understand me the way I do to myself. I want
them to watch me and adore every move I force.
I have too much self-awareness. I’m very well aware I’m an egoistic bitch with