It is 5:53 in the morning and I’m painting silently with my blanket draped over my shoulders. The floor’s cold, but I don’t want to cause yet another mishap on my bed. I can deal. Another swig from the bottle and I laugh. Not too loudly though, the family will wake.

Family. What is family? Is it the traditional mother, father, and a sibling or two? Or more? Does your definition of family include your aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents? How big of a radius does it cover?

I envy those who have parents who are in love or at least supportive of one another. I envy those who have a tight knit family, where your abode doesn’t become the Colosseum; two warriors fighting to their deaths.

It’s six in the morning now. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not drunk. I only feel cold, a little numb, and a little hollow. A little alone. Only a little.

It’s still dark out. Where are you, Sun?