I had a dream.
A dream of my youth. Though I am not so old as it is, at times I feel as though I have lived a peculiarly long life within this quarter of a century.
I dreamt of sunlight and joy. My heart was weightless and carefree. I heard myself laughing as I used to laugh long ago. Before I knew what it was to be broken.
I was not afraid. There was nothing dark in me. I had endured the shunning of my family and lived in spite of it.
The sun was so dazzling in my eyes that I could hardly see around me, yet I could glimpse what was there. Blue sky, green trees, and tall grasses that swayed on a sweet, cool breeze.
I felt someone beside me. I dare not guess who it was. A part of me declares that it knows already, but let me not dwell on this particular. All I knew was how utterly joyful I felt. Alive. Young. Free.
To see these words written now, and to feel the dream fading, like so many memories...
I feel older than I ought to.
I want to go home.
But I have no home.
