The skies here in the east are red again. There are more fires, somewhere in the northern distance, names of places I've never heard of before now burning. When I was a child I saw a show about burn victims. Few things terrified me more afterwards than being disfigured by flames. Those poor souls who would never return to their unaltered somatic selves.
A friend self-ended on Friday. The news has kept me from sleeping well for two nights now. It doesn't take much for sleeplessness to be the result of my psyche, though to lie awake in the dark and ponder the end of one's own existence, brought about by one's own choice, is plenty enough. I spoke briefly with an old friend about it and she agreed that suicide is always lurking everywhere. Nobody knows, though this one did not arrive as a surprise. He had struggled with depression and had made verbal overtures to the act many times in the past. Still, nothing could be done. What is there to say when a person no longer wishes to be. Get all of your goodbyes in early, before the rush.
My body and mind subject me to much unpleasantness when I get less than three or four hours of sleep each night. Topics which might normally only be passing thoughts stretch out before me and within me, their elasticity menacing time. The rising red dawn a beautiful curse.
Ok, I had meant to write more and on different subjects but now the boy is awake and insists upon his narrative of the morning. I pointed out the color of the skies to him and right away realized that perhaps this was a mistake, sending possible tremors through his psyche for reasons unknown to either of us.
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