Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun

In the midst of struggling to write my paper, I thought of the sun and how majestic it is. It was just one of those random sun-popping-into-your-mind moments I’m sure everyone has experienced before. The prevalence of malingered PTSD has increased in the recent –image of the sun pops up– years and this calls for a great concern because –image of sun pops up again–

you know how it is

You go about with your daily life: making your bed, queuing up for your food in the cafeteria, making small talks with your neighbors, refilling your bottle by the water fountain near the library, looking through the news feed on Facebook and here comes the glorious sun and its bright awesome rays and blinding glare.

You try to get it out of your mind and continue your mindless chat with your neighbor you don’t give a shit about but whom you continue asking how many exams she has just so you appear friendly. The sun pops up again. You ask about her dog. The sun pops up again. You tell her you hate your classes. The sun pops up again. and again. and again.

It haunts you because you let it do. You secretly enjoy having it invade your thoughts on cold lonely nights beneath the warm $100 duvet you got at Welcome. You sit in your class pretending to listen to your professor and you unconsciously invite it into your thoughts because you want it to.

Today, I thought of the sun again. Its warm glow, its varying hues of orange and purple and white and red, its perfect roundness, its omnipresent luminance. It keeps coming back over and over again so I decided once and for all that I will succumb to its influence. I walked over to my window and looked straight at it, letting my eyes feed on its glory slowly without blinking even once.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sun set and nestled itself behind the mountains and hills and things far beyond my sight. I walked over to my laptop to continue my paper but I found myself blinded for a good 3 minutes and 45 seconds. The pain was unbearable but I held my gaze, determined to let the pain sweep over me as swift as I had allowed it into me.

It came and it went as unceremoniously as I had expected it.
And then it was gone.

Here comes the sun/ here comes the sun / and I say / it’s all right