By Aly Kirke, TIWP Student

I go out. Not because I want to, but because I know I should. Within two hours I want to go home. When the sun begins to fall, I try to cling on, to still smile, to still laugh. And I do, but I get tired because each lift of my cheeks has the world pressing down on them. By sunset I’m on the brink of tears, but crying is not an option. When I finally make it back to my empty room, the weight of the universe pours from my weary eyes. These eyes should not ache so much, carry so much, but they do. If my eyes don’t, whose will?