​The night sky seems to almost fold in on itself till it bleeds hue’s so dark they contain every colour,

and as I sit and stare at this messy stain of a sky, it nearly seems to acknowledge my presence by showering me with droplets of rain.

I never thought I would be here, sitting in the middle of this withered garden, sitting and watching the sky bleed as it whimpers at me, as it makes me complicit in its dark thoughts; I feel so small. 

Who am I compared to the world around me? Who am I to even be compared?

So instead of trying to wrap my head around how little I truly matter,or trying to understand how large everything around me is, I just sit.

I sit, and absorb the air like its something I’ve never felt before, like the world isn’t the same one I shrink from every single day- I guess that’s one way to look at the night sky.

Like at night our world slowly shrinks till it just contains us, like at night, everything is magical and every raindrop that hits our face isn’t just normal, it’s an occurrence. 

It’s a whisper. It’s a battlecry of vulnerability.

So as I sit there, I don’t do anything.

I just bask in the strangeness of the night, I just bask as the sky  weeps around me- I just sit.

I just sit. 

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