Dear Diary,
Well, here we are. September 18, 2019. Hump Day.
Whoopee fizz.
While it may be true that the Sun will come up today somewhere, a shadow remains over my heart. I can’t see what’s casting that shadow.
The darkness is palpable. A chill has settled over the verdant fields of my soul. The bright colors of green, yellow, and red have become monochromatic; gray and dull.
Where are the birds that skitter in the bright, blue sky? Their songs expressing joy and gaiety in far better language than 240 characters allow.
Have the deer lost their ability to bound over the hills and through the vales that texture my dreamscape? It seems so.
Yet, there is hope.
Because somewhere, the Sun will arise.
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