Everyone else sleeps.
The world goes still.
And for once, I can breath.
No noice.
No questions.
No expectations.
Just me, and the soft hum of the world that finally stopped shouting.

I don’t want to sleep.  
And I can’t, anyway.

My thoughts are too loud,
My body too wired,
Like I was made for the hours everyone else forgets.

Daylight feels wrong, too bright, too demanding.
But night wraps around me like a blanket I actually want to wear.
This is when I come alive.
When silence isn’t empty but safe.

I scroll through nothing, lie in bed with my eyes wide open, and tell myself I’ll sleep soon.
But I never do.

I’ve finically stopped fighting it, this strange rhythm, this life between midnight and 5 a.m.
I think I was made for it.
For the stillness,
For the quiet company of my own thoughts,
For being alone but not lonely.

Let them have the day.
I’ll keep the night.