Identity

He lay in his bed staring at the light fitting on the ceiling; his mind wandered aimlessly. What a week. He let out a long deep sigh.

He looked out of the window. The sky was a wispy blue and the sun was shining. It was going to be a lovely day of typical autumn weather in England.

The window was open and a playful breeze was caressing his face. It was cold but he didn’t notice; he was lost in his thoughts. This past week had been a roller coaster ride of personal discovery, and he had a feeling it wasn’t over yet.

He turned over, lay on his stomach, poked his feet out from under the duvet and started examining the detail on the headrest.

He’d started the week knowing who he was. He’d started the week knowing what he was doing. He’d started the week secure in his identity. Things were different now. The world was different now. He was different now.

He frowned. The world hadn’t changed, his point of view had shifted.

It felt uncomfortable, but it also felt right.

He turned over again and drifted back into dreamland.