Roy Janik (zinereem) wrote,
Roy Janik

more words

The boy with the golden eyes didn't sleep. He was happy, and so long as he was happy, he didn't want to miss a moment of life. There was dancing, skipping, exploring, breathing, living to do. Sleep wasn't an option. It was so boring. What were dreams of slumber compared to daydreams, anyhow?

Sleep would come later, he knew, when the world grew dark and uninteresting. When one wanted to escape. He knew that the day would come, but that it was a long ways off yet. But just as he knew that his heart was filled with joy, he knew that there were those whose lives were composed of nothing but limitless suffering. He knew this as a fact, as he knew what order the seasons came in. And just as the boy with golden eyes knew the names of the seasons, he also knew the names of those in torment. The Firebrand. The Dewfly. But he was not sad. There was dancing, jumping, living to get on with, and the boy with the golden eyes knew that one tear would ruin it all.
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