There are times when
even though my window has been closed for days and no apparent natural light
has come into my room[natural meaning of nature and into meaning a metaphorical
entrance through tempered glass], I still feel as though it snakes its way throughmyblinds
ontomybed acrossmyfloor hitting my face, reflecting off my old mirror [my
mirror being the one I purchased and not made so as to see myself allegedly]
and this sunlight, this uninvited, precocious, intergalactic traveler[intergalactic
being the expanse though which it journeys and traveler being one who travels
for that sake alone]; this invades my room without regard to my present state
and expects me to just accept its presence, much like that of air or sneezing
or losing one sock, something expectantly inevitable, while maybejustmaybe I
had something better to do than cheer up and breathe and smile and enjoy life
and warmth and be satisfied.
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