It’s almost funny how quickly it can return to you, burning brightly within every fiber of your being. Even months after you’re positive that you’ve watched the last glowing ember fade right in front of your own eyes. How it can quicken your pulse, excite you for the first time in ages, make you look forward to something that used to be routine. Hope. Hope is a beautiful thing.
But now, it’s 6AM and I’m stuck on a couch with a lumpy pillow, a blanket that’s too short, and insomnia. Merrr I want my own bed, but my mom would think it was sketchy if I came home at 6 in the morning.
