I Hate The Sun

I hate the sun.

I hate how it wakes me up everyday from the blissful oblivion of sleep. The light pierces through the room and just rudely fills it up – without permission and without reprieve. It’s a signal that tells me it’s another day to do battle. It’s another day to put on masks. It’s another day. Period.

I hate the heat the sun brings. It’s heat is oppressive. I get drenched in sweat faster than most people and it’s hard to breathe under the sun.

When I was a kid, I would get painful sunburns that would last for days. That’s why at the beach I would stay in the shade and read books all day.

Maybe the metaphor here is that I hate myself a lot of the time. Someone once called me a ball of sunshine because I brighten up the room when I go in. I am energy personified. And I don’t like it.

My fear is that I am overwhelming. I don’t have the ability to control myself. I’m afraid that I’m too bright that I blind. I’m afraid I have so much energy that I burn – either myself or others.

What I do love is the rain. So many people have noticed that I don’t like umbrellas. I love walking in the rain. I love how cleansing it feels. I love the sound of thunder. Its booming voice feels like a song for me.

I stare at lightning because it fascinates me. The brief flashes of beauty and strength that for a moment lights up the world without overstaying its welcome.

I love the dark. I love how it gives clarity to the things that truly bring me light. I revel in the dark corners. I feel comfort in the embrace of the night. It is when my day has ended and where I can finally stop being the sun. I look to the distance and see tiny lights and wonder what happens out there. It fascinates me to no end.

I love the ocean at night.  I love listening to the surf crash in the distance, drowning out my thoughts. I love the sursurations of the tide as it eddies and whispers in my ear. The peace it brings is immeasurable. It swallows up the sun and hides it for me – a stay of sentence before a new day begins.

These are the things that I enjoy. The things that give me life. I may hate the sun but these are what make it tolerable. Because as much as I hate the sun, as much as I hate myself, those things are what bring balance to me. They keep me in control. And that’s what makes me realize how needed I am, even if I hate being who I am. Those things give me reason to live.

4 Comments

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  1. Mister, you need to get out of your head. Find a cause to occupy your time. We all need to be involved in something greater than our puny existences.

    Que lastima! Someone so talented like you wasting that remarkable ability to use language, churning lovesick compositions like a teen-ager in the vortex of immature “love.”

    It’s getting tiresome, this pre-occupation with self-pity. Get out there and be more productive… okay?

    Was it Twain who wrote, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation”? It’s true, and yet most men plug on and on until they reach success, which is a relative term, and is best measured by the individual’s yardstick.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Areeeeed! I’m so happy you’re back! T_T 🙂
    I missed your thoughts, alam mo ba? Hahhaha. 😀
    Anyway, I hope you’re doing fine. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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