i think about how everyone is sad inside. i think about the darkness of the night, how it makes us scared that one day it might just stay that way. people leaving, loved ones dying, of feeling a pain that we cannot bear to patch up. but the darkness makes me think of dreams. i think of my parents before they got married, the dreams that they had for their future, the dreams they had for their first child, the love they felt holding me in their arms for the first time. i think of how loved we are, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to find proof. i think how my heart has broken over and over for a stranger or a friend, when i never taught it to heal itself. that if it dares to break again, i may leave it that way. i think of my own dreams for my brother, for him to have someone who loves him by his side when one day i am gone. i think of my grandmother, dancing in heaven. i think how as we get older, our dreams get smaller. i think back to my childhood, how my writing made my teacher cry. it makes me think of my words, how they may have the power to touch someone. when in actuality, i’m crying out to be heard. i think back to my childhood, i think, what if i was there to hold your hand. would you be less scared? i think how actually we’re all crying out, in the darkness, at night, when we’re alone with our thoughts. how that makes the darkness beautiful. i think of all the voices crying out and lighting up the sky in time for the sunrise. and i think to myself how my voice is out there—albeit one in eight billion—and perhaps that is what helps me face another ending, the ending that this december brings.