I wake up when everybody is sleeping. Quietly, the people around me dream of worlds they wish they knew, only to wake up and forget their longing. With a swiftness of motion I only wish I could harbor, these same people glide through the stream of the day effortlessly fitting into the structural mold set out before them. Each morning they rise, and mold themselves around the cookie cutter outline that they hang up to rest every single night, right before they melt and head back into the same familiar dream world. The movements these people make, the way they dress, the things they say, and the way they look- it all goes together in this coherent fashion. It all somehow makes sense. But me, I am a mess of individual tangled webs, floating distantly from each other. I am grey matter, and these people are rainbows. Their light shines on me when I am sleeping, and my eyes take awhile to adjust. This process needs to be turned around somehow. Together, the molds should be coherent and easy to fit inside of. But for me, I have no shape. I squirm around without solidification, forever wishing to find my shape.