the sun

The sun, until a moment ago, had yet to really rise. Just now, the first shocking beam on light shot over the mountain peak. I could look straight at it, discernable behind the mountain, and even for the briefest of seconds after it came over the mountain. It is rising now, quicker than I can type and is already above the mountain completely, and I can’t even turn my face to the window. The floors are striped with shadows of widow shades. This hallway is too bright now. I can’t concentrate in this daylight. I see blinds, and wonder if I am allowed to get up and close them. I think that I will after the person with squeaking wheels pushes by. I can hear her in the hallway. A girl with a stroller. A door slams and someone else is walking towards me. I can hear everyone around corners, but no one in front of me. Do I do it now?
Here I go.
It was a much noisier task then I had hoped, and after I sit down several people walk by curiously. Hey. There is nothing to see. I turn to the sun now, and look through the blinds straight at its centre. Through the black it still makes my eyes water. A blue-purple spot when I close my eyes, and someone is sitting down across from me. In the naturally shaded part of the room. She’s unlacing her therapeutic tennis shoes. She has pulled them off, and tucks her feet, clothed in grayish yellow socks, underneath her, pulling her coat over her.
She must be homeless. Since that is the least comfortable looking couch on all of campus, and surely a person with a home would be used to bed and try to find a full sized armchair, and not one with wooden armrests. That girl is probably an English Education major, since everyone up here is an English Major, and she looks crazier than normal. I might be the only person who isn’t crazy and weird trying to be an English Education Major. Six strong beams are exploding from the sun through the blinds. I tried to look at it again, and find that I can’t see my computer screen through the speckles in my eyesight. The spots are green on my computer screen, orange on the walls, and blue when I close my eyes.
How do you do that, sunlight? Thanks for being so awesome.
A moth is trying to reach the sun now, he’s pushing against the glass he doesn’t know is there. The glass is protecting him now; if he flew to the sun, he wouldn’t make it home. But at night, when he supposed finally fly out, the glass will keep him here. I want to let him out, but these windows don’t open. Everything here is for show. The building is beautiful, but it’s made of glass.
He has fallen. Banging and pushing against the window. He crawled around a little, rubbing his legs and looking at the sun before curling up in the shade to wait. Or to die. I hope he’s okay. I think if I had wings, I would fly to he sun too. I think I understand why he keeps trying to make it there. I’m certainly afraid of falling into the sea, but I think Icarus knew what he was doing after all, and maybe that moth has more of an idea of what’s important than I do.
Now I’m embarrassed that I shut the blinds.
The girl across the room is shifting positions on her uncomfortable chairbed. She’s wearing a stupid hat. Dang it, there I go again. I decided last night, no more fault-finding. Fine, that hat is fine. I wonder if she’s asleep. When I restarted my computer, she didn’t look up.
Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more.
I started listening to Christmas music this week. I don’t care that it’s only October. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, so why put it off any longer? I could see my breath yesterday morning. Today I felt colder, but my breath was invisible. It was too bad. 9:42. The sun has been up for awhile now. I can’t bring myself to write an essay for biology. Who cares about obesity? Not I, not today. I only care about the sun today.