I took out the trash. I am sometimes struck by the world around me. Tonight: the golden carpet of leaves beneath my feet, the somber blue sky, the solitary moon, the cracking paint, broken windows hiding piles of junk, wasted broom, cracked pot of cigarette butts, illuminated shades that only hint of the troubled world within, my own visible breath escaping and retreating into anonymity. There is a beauty here that no one else sees, that no one else truly experiences, and that will only be known by others in snapshots and second-hand accounts. And it reminds me of other beauty, and of pain.

I sometimes think how I might wish that others could experience this world the way that I do

. . . but then I realize that I wouldn’t wish this curse upon anyone.