The monsters we create, they welcome us aboard

It's another month, and the seasons are finally turning. Sunrises are always this queer sort of gloaming, a rising blue and gray over the city, like some fluorescent light taking far too long to come to power. Maybe today's sky will be blue, maybe it will be gray.

I can't see the sun from where I sit, but I know it's there. I sit here with my empty glass and count my blessings. The future is a friend of yours and mine, or that's what I tell myself, really. I wonder if being drowsy makes me poetic.

I remind myself that I was a chameleon once, and I will be again. This is my world and I am the world leader pretend. I am not perfect but parts of me are excellent. I will learn to accept my anger, to understand my anger, and then to sublimate my anger into a shining beacon for this world.

I will remember that there are people who have shown me grace and understanding, and I must take care not to lash out at everything near me. More yang, less yin. More fruit, less meat.

There's someone I have yet to be.