Dear Imogen —
I haven’t slept in a while and I am so tired. Things get dark each night and the darkness is like a deep navy blue, thick and suffocating as it lays over the room — but lately, I don’t fear the thick dark navy blue, I fear the glow. The far off glow that seeps in through the window when it’s open and seeps in through the window when it’s shut. The glow that reflects off the thick and smooth surface of the darkness, surrounding me from every angle. The grainy glow that penetrates the thick glass of my windows, and normally, might be soothing as it protected me from the inevitable quiet of the darkness, except it’s not.
I can’t sleep because I can’t remember what you looked like. I can remember your hair – it fell just beneath your shoulders, sometimes longer when you didn’t have time to cut it. It was a dark dirty blonde color, borderline brown, but not quite — like mine. But it was curly, a light curl that was soft and expansive. Mine is straight like a pin.