The clouds outside my window remind me of the softness that water emits around a fragile body. I’ve got nothing to prove, nothing to lose. You snooze, you lose, they say. I snooze quite a lot, and I’m also quite a loser. Either way, the sun orbits around our earth, and I remember sitting by the river. You know, when everything becomes so silent you can hear the serotonin of your understanding rushing gently towards the tips of your fingers.

Soft days my memory makes sure I will never forget. Days when everything is funny, days that make you write down everything in lowercase. The soft sun warmed the steel beneath my feet, the earth shaking, my hands reaching upwards to spread the utter glee of my heart into the cosmos of oxygen. I’m at the top, and I am never alone. I’m making sure my friends come with me. It’s only because of their relentless strength that my vision can unfold in the layers of humanity.

Everything is so silent when you are at peace, like, you know, even my tears smile in an orange hue. It’s so funny when they drop from the edge of my sharp skin onto my big toe. And then I started collecting leaves from every possible tree I could find. I couldn’t find a lot of different trees, actually, maybe only four or five, but I was the proud owner of four or five leaves then! I made sure these leaves pointed in all possible directions so they could unite all the spirits that reside between the molecules.

But things happen, things change. The goosebumps on my skin remind me of the undeniable truth these memories hold. I’m older now, I’m disabled now.

There is no mercy in the biology of things, and my soft heart of water and moss now resides in a Xanax-ridden body of pain and stone.

At times, I am missing the words to describe a reality like mine, but then I remember my days of candy, the memories of liquid, drinkable understanding, and I just use my limited vocabulary for these days, as in times of despair it is always easier to write of glee.