Some nights I get visited by the me that lives on the other side. He tells me of all the fun he's having that looks a lot like the fun I was having while I wanted to have fun. We learn more from the good times, he says, than the bad. Good times, we don't know we're in them until we're out; bad ones, we're only waiting to be out. Hindsight, he says, is more lethal than expectations. One you can plan, the other you can't change.

He says we're still on talking terms there. We've been more, too, but it didn't work. Too bad, but probably for good. We're not that different, then, are we? You're in a better place than I am, he says, so why are you focusing on anywhere else? Because every bright place looks more beautiful when you don't have to squint.

He hands me my sunglasses, says I could wear these. I shake my head, I don't want to go back to the darkness. But maybe it's time to face it, he says, because you never really left it behind, did you? But what if I can't find my way to the sun anymore? He asks if I still have people around who make me laugh. I do, I say, I don't even need to think about it. Laughter, he says, is our own little sunshine. As long as you have that, the world will never be pitch black.