Once again the planet rolls me around toward the sun. I’m not sure why the planet does this to me, what she expects me to do. Every day, though, she moves me out of her cool, dark shadow and reaches me out as close to the sun as she can, given her constraints and bonds. Mostly I stay under shelter and wait for her to slide me back into her shade. I wonder, sometimes, if she will get tired of this, tired of my failure to be her ambassador to the stars. I don’t want to disappoint her, but the sun intimidates me. I cannot look him in the eye. I’ve been told it’s not a good idea.
They were playing “Good Scientist, Bad Scientist” with me, hoping to break my will, to get me to confess something. “The sun is the saddest and most frightened entity in the universe,” one told me. “If you stare into it, your psyche will be unable to cope with the raw emotion. Your own mind will blind your eyes so that you cannot see the misery of the sun.” “That’s preposterous,” said the other, rolling his eyes. “The sun has no emotions, it’s an inanimate object. It’s the overwhelming light from the sun that will blind you if you stare at it.” I wasn’t going for it, though. I knew the truth and they were both wrong. I swore that I would never tell, however, so I just sat and blinked, hoping they would give up soon.
You are noon for the sun. When the sun is as close to you as it can get, that is the pinnacle of his day. Everything fades from there, until you come around again.
Hello, friends. I trust you to be well. Don’t disappoint me.
Later. Love.
