I know nothing about the night.
I know the fear. I have memories from when I was really (really) a sad person, and when I thought I had overcome one day, and was still alive, then, suddenly, I had the night and had to sleep with her.
I did not want.
other morning I just wanted to try and fail again. They
all those other mornings, and all of them missed.
do not know what's wrong with me at night. I do not know if I leave my body and go elsewhere.
The mystery of it all is that when I wake up, I'm pale person in the world. As a vampire who goes out, and by the hour and the morning races, I catching color.
sleep in black and white, that is. I go back. I am a Stieglitz photograph. I'm a film by Frank Borzage. I'm negative. I'm from wool.
before yesterday morning I woke up so pale that it seemed transparent. I think if I had struggled a bit, have gotten away (and if I disappear, do not look at the wells, mud stains that you dress so nice).
People looked at me strangely and three different people told me I was 'naive'. Candida.
Candida is one of those words that I know without actually knowing its true meaning. So I got home and I looked in the dictionary. Candide: color snow or milk.
And it snowed. Perhaps mimicry. Empathy. Vampirism. I melt the snow. One day disappear from the target.
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