A Girl Named Leney

THE JOURNAL

The Events At Dusk

whispering fading darkness. 
your favorite light is the light that can equally belong to the dusk and the dawn because, if you didn’t have a point of reference, you could close your eyes and open them again and not be sure which time it was. 
the familiar feelings aren’t present, and so the present ones make you feel like a stranger to yourself, but not one you altogether dislike. 
you miss them. you miss them in their familiarness. but you aren’t sure if that’s an alright thing to feel. whether it’s a sign of set back, of being stuck, or a sign of moving forward, of growth.
there’s the smell of smoke.
there’s the feel of grass on bare feet.
there’s the vision of blurry lights strung in the trees.
your altruistic turned mercurial ways. 
the events at dusk.