Happy New Year

• Amber Wilson, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2011

As the pinkish streetlight floods through the cracks in my curtains, I sighed.
Knowing that I should turn on the light, but not having the will to.
And I feared what the light would show me.
Darkness is comfort. Light is harsh. Reality is harsh too.
It rips me apart and makes me want to turn in on myself. Curl up into a ball. Hide.
Anything but face the world.
I wish I could run away, I wish I could escape reality, I wish I would stop wishing!
Years of introversion flash before my eyes. The tears keep falling as I stare into the murky depths of my mirror. A faint tearstained face stares back.
The fireworks went off suddenly, piercing through my ears and exploding like white and grey bursts behind my eyes.
It forces me to the floor, the greenish glow reflecting on my contorted face.
The colourful explosions continue for a few minutes, and all the while I stay curled in a tight ball, waiting like this. Waiting for an end.
The light finally dies down. I relax. And start to drift off into the twilight world of my dreams.
For darkness is comfort. Light is harsh. And reality is harsh too.