Nighttime
Insomnia & The Spark
It’s the wee hours after midnight, when everyone else in the house is fast asleep. It’s the bewitching hour that feeds my soul, when my creativity peaks. The veil is at its thinnest, separating me from the muse. While I know I should be sleeping, and sleep is vital to my well being, it’s the last thing that I want, and there’s no way I can sleep on nights like this, anyhow.
What I want is to write, to create, to think unfettered by the constraints of the day. I want to figure out what ails me, what has been dogging me for weeks. I want this brief respite when it feels okay to be me, in this body, in this brain. There’s nothing wrong with me; I’m just different than the 98–99%. No biggie. This is the time when I can find clarity on the path that so frequently befuddles. It’s a time when I can feel blissfully alone. Unencumbered. Lighter. Free.
I’ve been troubled with suicidal thoughts for the last week, maybe longer, but they’re gone now, at least for the moment. That is to be enjoyed, for I know not how long it will last. There’s a strong possibility they’ll visit me again tomorrow. I hope the hell not, but hope often fails in these matters. While I feel good right this minute, my emotions may very well be hijacked in the morning. I have no idea.
What I do know is this: the worst way for me to get some sleep is to stay in bed and try to go to sleep. That doesn’t mean I don’t still try it oftentimes. The best way to get some sleep is not to fight it, so I get up and write until sleepiness finds me. Usually it does.
