Light seldom graces me with her presence. That used to tear me apart. Now, I have learned to appreciate her absence. I sit, perched on my plush cushion. Bluejays sit on my windowsill. Their wings are resting and my eyes are gleaming. How beautiful it is to watch a sentient being recover, rejuvenate. I’ll never tell you that knowing you set me free. All the things in life that are terrible now amaze me. My ears laugh at the sounds the bluejays have gifted me. They are so happy. Sipping the sweet, crimson nectar. Filling them with life and substance. I am writing again. My voice is different now. I used to be locked in your cell. Now, I turn to the light. The bluejays and I share a commonality: nectar is there for enjoyment, not necessity.