Yesterday was just yesterday.
Today I woke up in the morning and ate lunch at noon and went home from work early and called a friend late at night and made plans for tomorrow.
Yesterday the world was a mural relief like the background picture fixed to the wall of my existence.
Today the trees reach over the wall to greet me and the grass tickles me with millions of layers made of single blades and trails are leading to shady corners inviting me for a rest and the sunshine paints patterns on my skin while I watch bees dancing flower maps to each other. Today I could swear even the horizon has moved a little further away and pushed the clouds a little higher up to leave a little more space to fit all this life in that wasn’t here, yesterday.
Yesterday I looked at my wrists and saw vessels to cut through and cried.
Today I cry because I can’t decide whether to go look behind that fence that suddenly has holes in it, or to count all the baby cows I pass on my way to work, or to feed my lunch carrot to the horses at the corner just before the path reaches the campus, or to take pictures of all the things I see in the clouds so that I can show them to my flatmate when I come home, and I cry because I wonder if I will forget all of this when I go back into my black hole whose nothingness is as real as today’s sparkling vibrant explosion and if I do forget how will I remind myself that yes, there is another tomorrow, it’s just hidden behind that facade…