Urgh I wanted to post this tomorrow evening, but I’m very sad now and I want to post something sad. Anyway it is TECHNICALLY tomorrow already. This was something I wrote today based on this profound sadness I felt on Sunday morning, 7-ish at Marina Barrage.
Early morning breeze fills your lungs as if a damp cloth is smothering the insides of your rib cage. Dew builds up cancerously in one’s chest as if one is breathing in molecular teardrops – those that fall from the sliver of the almost-moon, that upside-down frown, in its farewell to the horizon. Maybe that suffocating freshness triggers some sensory mechanism, the thoughts of the other kind of teardrop from above.
That is why one feels sad at dawn: the reminder that the night is slipping away from one’s fingertips, the grey-orange sky whispering in one’s ear, “Here ascends that orange globe, the nightmarish promise of a new beginning, to take you far away from the security of the night and the glistening stars of one’s happy memories… at least for the next 12 hours.”
One knows that despite the darkness, it always seemed like it was cradling you in the arms of someone – someone who exists despite feeling nothing, remembering nothing, saying nothing. It is that sunrise that is reminiscent of being thrust into some sort of void, the emptiness of physical reality, as one watches the clock tick towards the next escape into that cave which protects the treasures of one’s heartbreak from disintegrating under the faintly scalding kisses of the first light.