Page 25 of More Than Water

As I flip through each note, I can’t help but smile.

When I come to the final entry—written when I was nearly seventeen, according to the date—my eyes water. Some feelings never change.

THESTARRYNIGHTBYVINCENT VANGOGH

HUES OF BLUE AND YELLOW SWIRL LIKE COSMIC WAVES OVER THE SMALL EVENING VILLAGE.THE ILLUMINATIONS ARE SO BRIGHT IN THE PAINTED SKY THAT THEY PIERCE A VIBRANT HEARTBEAT INTO THE STILLNESS OF THE RIGID BUILDINGS BELOW.UNBENDING BOXES HAVE BEEN CONSTRUCTED TO CONTAIN AND CHAIN THE MORNING CREATURES, SO THE NIGHT CAN PLAY FREELY, ALLOWING THE DARKNESS TO ABSORB ITS OWN LIGHT.

HUMANITY RESTS AND FLOURISHES IN THE RECTANGULAR CLUSTERS.BUT WHAT IF THE BEINGS ARE HOLLOW?THEIR EMPTY HEARTS HAVE BEEN MOLDED AND REGIMENTED TO FOLLOW RULES FORMATTED BY THE DAYTIME INHABITANTS.

SLAVES TO THE VOID.

IAM NOT ONE OF THOSE HOLLOW HEARTS.MY PUMPING BLOOD IS A CAGED AND FAMISHED BEAST PRIMED TO EAT AWAY AT THE BINDINGS OF THIS EXISTENCE.

IWANT TO LIVE IN THE NIGHT—TO DANCE AND TO BE FREE, TO RIDE THE WAVES OF THE WIND.IWANT TO BE WILD AND WITHOUT BOUNDARIES.

MY BODY WAS GIVEN A LIFE IN THE STILLNESS, BUT MY SOUL YEARNS TO RETURN TOTHESTARRYNIGHT.

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