the sky in my backyard is transforming itself into purples and oranges; the sun is being sucked out of my world and, as I gaze out my windows over the fence, I sigh heavily, releasing all my problems and thoughts out of me—the only method I know that will help me to survive. the sky quickly darkens, fading to black.
all stage appearances have ended; it is time to return to staring at myself in the mirror while wiping off my stage make-up and trying to be okay with the person who stares back at me. I turn on my computer and try to connect with so-called friends in a virtual world, in a stale imitation of the real world and face-to-face contact. the street lights come on, one by one.
ding! I receive an instant message. as my conversation with her continues, I realize that she is one of the street lights in my life: always there during my staged appearances, unlit but strong and steady, and bright and shining when I return to the bare-faced me, always ready to shed light on who I am and to guide me on my forever winding, prickly path.
