As he staggered helplessly, the perpetually impregnable white light obscuring his vision, he knew that not everyone was this unfortunate. The Sun was actually supposed to provide light to The Universe; he knew that there were the elites, who had the privilege of basking in the first rays of The Sun every morning. He craved for that vision, and though his composure was renowned, he couldn't accept the fact that the vision, the most sensuous of spectacles shall remain alien to him forever. He shall never get to see the world in the first rays of the Sun.
He let out one of those silent screams that he often did. They tore his lungs out, but his vocal cord never reciprocated. His entire body shook in spasms. He had to accept it, he knew. But then, some things are simply too difficult to digest. He knew that he deserved The Sun as much as anyone else. The suffocating white darkness was all he had to be content with.
He wandered aimlessly as the day progressed; he knew soon it shall be night, and then dawn all over again. He hated dawns. He absolutely hated them.