It's late at night and I'm sitting here, typing away my thoughts, hopes, and dreams. With the sound of the fan blowing cold wind across my legs under the dining room table, I wait. What exactly am I waiting for? A miracle? A chance? An opportunity? Some inspiration? It doesn't work that way. Life doesn't work that way. And that's where my mind is always headed each and every late night writing session. After hitting writer's block every afternoon, night time always is the right time to write.
It's late at night and I'm sitting here, scrolling down the Facebook newsfeed, catching up on everything that happened today that I probably looked at for more than a hundred times already. Another article on the Orlando shootings. Another article hashtag RIP Christina. Another movie trailer coming soon in 2017. Another gossip about someone famous that I don't care about. Another child being praised for their mediocre talents. What else is there to do? Stalking friends' profiles. Stalking that boy I just happen to find commenting on a random post. Video after video after video after video...
It's late at night and I'm sitting here, scrolling through Instagram. Found that one cute guy I was looking for since last week. Found that one post I forgot to like or skipped today. Found that one video that wasted about 10 seconds of my life. Found that one pretty girl that I envy. Thought about what picture to post today, since I haven't posted a picture in a while now. Ended up not posting any picture at all because there aren't any nice recent photos that I took. Scrolled down that other pretty girl, filled with selfies, selfies, whole body photos, bikini photos, and oh look, more selfies. And coming back to my own profile filled with seemingly meaningful but actually completely meaningless quotes on nice faded backgrounds, amateur food photography, mediocre landscape taken with a DSLR camera that I barely know how to use, pictures of friends, half-decent pictures of myself, and more quotes and food. See the difference?
It's late at night and I'm sitting here, hearting pictures of WeHeartIt. Perfect hair. Amazing nails. To-die-for clothes and shoes. Like every other social media, it shows what you want, what you could have, and what you can't have. Because a 'heart' doesn't get you that delicious looking piece of chocolate cake. Or those brand new Nike shoes. Or a dream vacation to that sandy beach under cloudless skies. Or that cute kitty that you've been dying to have since you were very little. All I can do it download it, save it on my phone, and let it clutter up my memory, until I have to erase it again to clear space for other junk I'll put in my phone later.
It's late at night and I'm sitting here, typing up this could-be poem, would-be vignette, should-be reflection. Because it's late at night, and that when my mind goes wild. It's those words I didn't say. Those thoughts in the back of my mind. Those demons locked up in cages. Those insecurities that never knew there places. And that is, ladies and gentlemen, what happens late at night.
