Long Nights and Shortened DaysA Poem by Ennay:]Long Nights and Shortened Days “Admit it. You stay up late at night on purpose, don’t you?” The question caught me by surprise. I thought about it, remembering all of the conversations that kept me up late at night. I did enjoy speaking to all of these people. I made great friends through some of them. Some that I’d love to meet in person one day. But something in my heart tugged at me. Bringing me back to one conversation. The moon shined down on us, casting a glow upon the water surrounding us. This wasn’t real. I knew that. I stared at the game on my phone and then looked towards the person I spoke to. He was.. Calm. Very calm. And somehow that calmed me too. “It’s late, you should go to sleep. You have work after all.” I said as I stepped into the water, closer to him. “You have a longer day than I do tomorrow. With your classes and all of that.” He just seemed to watch me, waiting to see what I would say in reply. I just looked up at the night sky, seeing the stars twinkle and shine in the dark. I felt that feeling in my chest. The aching. “I don’t want to leave.” I’m not sure what provoked me into saying this. But I knew I meant it. Deep down, I wanted to stay. Here. With him. But then he caught me by surprise. “I don’t want to leave either.” I saw the words before I heard them. Seeing the message float above his avatar. Then I heard them, in my heart. He meant it too. We both meant it. “You have to leave first.. Or I’ll never go to sleep.” He laughed. But we both knew it was true. And yet, it was just as difficult for him to leave as it was for me. But then he said it again. “I don’t want to leave.” Seeing him repeat the words that I had said not too long before. “I know.” Was all I could reply. “We have tomorrow.” But I didn’t want tomorrow to come. I wanted to stay in that moment. Chatting with him about the most random things. We spoke about fears, wishes, our personal lives, our friends… It went on. He was a good friend. I had made a right choice. But then I snapped back into reality. Sitting in an office with someone I barely knew. “Yes, I do.” The woman just watched me for a moment. As if she had lingering thoughts within her mind that she wanted to speak to me about. But she was trying to pick the best one to say. “Then why?-” She didn’t ask her full question. But I already knew what she meant. She wanted to know why I chose to do this to myself. To fall apart during the daytime just to spend my energy during the night. “Because I feel safe then.” The woman frowned slightly. There was confusion, plastered across her face. “Safe?” I smiled softly thinking about it. “I feel safe speaking to them.” I didn’t dare clarify who ‘them’ was. And she didn’t ask. I knew of many people I could come up with. An artist, a musician, a coder, a future accountant, but the last one.. I wouldn’t give him away. I wouldn’t give away what made me feel suddenly safe again. What made me feel suddenly happy again. The photographer. The one who I doubted that I would ever meet. Though perhaps he would stay a bit longer than some of the others had. My photographer friend. I smiled at the thought of it. The woman only laughed at me. What I had said. “So what? Are you in love?” I frowned at that. Feeling the aching in my heart. “You can care for people without falling in love with them.” The woman raised her eyebrows, as if she knew something that I didn’t. “Yet you claim that you’re in pain. Don’t you even wonder why that is? Perhaps your heart aches for someone?” I practically rolled my eyes at the thought, but then I sat up again and apologized to the woman. I wasn’t usually like this.. And she knew that. “I don’t think so. If my heart aches for someone.. It’s for the people who are no longer here.” I thought of the uncle that had died on the morning of my thirteenth birthday. Everyone else was crying that morning. And I didn’t even know why. And when I asked about it, my mother just looked at me in disbelief. I knew him the least out of everyone. And yet he is the one I think of each year. I also think of my friend. She had died a few weeks before that. At least, I’d like to think I was her friend. We hadn’t known each other for very long, a mere few days. But I was trying to help her.. Trying to show her the joy in the few things she did have left. And then after the third day, she was gone. I didn’t even know her name. I just knew.. Her. My heart aches for the moment I saw my grandmother sitting outside on the grass during my birthday, when I turned fifteen. I heard my mother whispering to my father that her friend had died. Julia. I’m still mad at them for just talking about it and not doing anything for my grandmother. My father always said he was trying to get away from his parent’s lifestyle. But she doesn’t deserve to be left alone. And that’s why I count down the days till I can leave. So I can be there for people like her who do care. I walked out into the yard and sat down next to her. We didn’t speak for a while. Just simply sat there. Eventually she spoke. Telling me that covid had taken Julia. I remembered the last time I saw Julia, we were taking her to an airport. But it seems that after the fact, she had fallen ill. Until it grew so bad that she couldn’t fight it anymore. And I couldn’t blame her. I gave my grandmother’s hand a small squeeze. She deserves so much more than how she is treated. My father was raised going to her church until he went to the army and grew sick of it. I guess that’s just what happens when you’re surrounded by death. My mother was with an ex-husband who was very catholic and he abused her and my siblings. I couldn’t blame them either when they stopped going to church except for Christmas and sometimes Easter. My grandmother sends me books about being a christian, which the rest of my family makes faces at, or pokes fun at it. I don’t go to church as much as I used to anymore either.. But I felt safer there than I did at home. So in spite of it all. I read all of those books. I would read them in public. Where they could see me reading it. I wouldn’t let them make fun of my grandmother for sending them to me. But they could pick on me all they liked. I wouldn’t care. Then I met my photographer friend. He had been through a lot too. But I wouldn’t dare utter it out loud. That would never be my place. Though it did shock me.. When he spoke about it. How some of his wounds matched my own. And how similar we were. It was the first time in a while that I dared to take out my camera. I didn’t use it much but.. Something drew me to it again. And then that camera drew me here. To this desk, as I write on a google document about things in the darkest pits of my mind. I haven’t spoken to him in a while.. I forget about the woman who sat across from me minutes ago. I was now roaming the empty halls of my school. I wanted to speak to him. I glanced down at my old phone. Seeing my messages to him about music I had performed.. Sometimes I wondered if he was ‘just being nice.’ I wouldn’t mind it but.. Maybe part of me had also wondered if I had found a friend who was genuinely interested in the same things that I was. I slid my phone back into my pocket as I reached for my Nikon camera from the side of my bag. It was small, fit well within my hands. I didn’t have batteries so I couldn’t turn it on.. A gift from my grandmother. For my thirteenth birthday. I couldn’t remember why. But I always wanted one. And she remembered that. I loved it. And I still do. But for new reasons now. I remember taking pictures with my friends at Lake Norman. We were on the broken dock. Watching the sunset as we laughed and blasted music into the empty water surrounding us. I caught myself smiling at the thought. He was right. These photos not only hold memories, but they tell us the stories that we forget due to time. And that’s when I knew. I needed to find some batteries. © 2024 EnnayReviews
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1 Review Added on November 16, 2024 Last Updated on November 16, 2024 Author
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