Play with Words [Monologue 1]

A:  Sunlight through the curtains, muted, transcended into something greater than it is. The signal that another day has begun, another day has died. We will never get back what we had before the darkness came. It has passed.

I like the darkness. It is a great equaliser. It brings us all to a similar state of death. For isn't that all sleep really is? A little death? Not as pure and undiluted as the real thing but still something we have no control over and that we cannot conquer. There is no conquering death, we all know that, but to conquer sleep is to invite death in. Ironic.

I understand I may seem somewhat morose from these words. But that is all they are. Words. Syllables that someone has chosen to represent certain feelings, concepts, things. The little noises we utter could mean a thousand other things if we wanted them to. I have the power to make death mean flowers, or snow, or sunshine, if I so desired. I don't want or need to make other people believe that this is so, but if I were so inclined I could reinvent the words we think we know.

The last sunrise I watched was from the wrong side. I didn't rise with it and enjoy the sun peeking over the horizon. I stayed up through the night, with the darkness and the peace, and I saw the light invade the blanket of silence I had so enjoyed. I was invaded, the sun was raping the night, forcing it into a corner and ramming it's shining cock deep down the throat of night, cumming sunshine whether it was wanted or not.

I took umbridge at that. I cut the pain away that time.