The Bleeding Edge of Dawn

Dear Delyara, It is 4:55 AM, and the very first line of pale gray light is beginning to separate the sky from the rooftops. The night is over, and my sanctuary is vanishing. During the dark hours, I can hide from the reality of my struggles; I can pretend that I’m just a writer or an artist taking a temporary pause. But the dawn forces the truth back into the light. In less than two hours, the streets will be flooded with people who have normal lives, normal careers, and clear paths forward. I will have to drag my exhausted body back into the uniform, put on the heavy boots, and pretend that I am completely fine. This final page of my diary tonight is a desperate plea to the universe for a way out, before the daylight completely consumes whatever piece of myself I have left.