Midnight Ramblings

5 AM

There are times during the night where I can't sleep. It's fairly often now. Sleep hasn't come easily in years.

But on nights like tonight, it's different. I don't mind being awake now. I actually rather enjoy this time. It's early. 5:30 ish. It's dark but not too dark. Not so dark that you're crushed by the weight of it. Not so dark that I'm paralyzed by the usual paranoia and fear of what lurks in the shadows. A comforting darkness. It's light somehow. It's a kind of dark that comforts and soothes rather than the kind that sends chills up your spine. A safe darkness. It is this dark that I find pleasant to sit in and think.

Like tonight for instance. My head is full of the sudden realization of how important some people are to me. How horrifying it'd be to lose them and the feeling of how I don't deserve them. I don't deserve this kind of happiness. And that's another thought that resonates with me. I was once asked if I thought I deserved to be happy. At the time I didn't know what to say, or rather, I knew the answer, but couldn't bring the word to form on my lips. No was suddenly such a powerful and daunting word.

It's those thoughts that strike up different things I bring up with those special people in my life. The memory of finally seeing that I'm not alone in my feelings. That other people think the same things about themselves. I'd been talking to someone who I've grown to realize is so devastatingly important to me I can't really imagine life without them. It's just strange to think of what I'd do.

The thoughts I shared then were some of the most personal I've shared in a long time with anyone. I had asked why they even liked me, I I'm horrible, only to be met with the same as an answer. That self loathing, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Let alone them.

"We're both fucked up perfectly imperfect creatures." That's what they'd told me. It was during these early hours of morning that the thought came back to me, and I decided I liked how it sounded. I said it to myself, again and again. As many times as it took for it to sink in. It was the most anyone has seemed to understand me in a long while. It was the most open I'd been in ages. And the thought recurred to me time and time again.

And suddenly there's the crushing weight and tightness in my chest and I can't breathe because there's that feeling again. The one I seldom feel now. That feeling of being alive, no matter how overly dramatic that sounds, that feeling of love for the people in my life spilling over and that crushing again of the thought of loss. It's that thought that has me pacing in this time. That thought that forces me onto my feet in these early hours and outside to breathe.

The chill in the air and coolness filling my lungs again as the life floods back and I can think and breathe and my head spins but it's not dizzying. It's calming and all at once I'm thrown back into that reality of this.... something.

Something in my chest that stirs and grows that only these early morning thoughts can bring up. And it's as if I need to run and shout to everyone and call all those who matter most and tell them over and over how much they mean to me and how loved they are and say it again and again so that they may never feel as I have in the past. So that they may never have to suffer through these feelings or lack thereof I've had these past few years.

It is this that settles me to write my thoughts before they are gone. Because I'm never more aware of my feelings and my sense of self and others than I am at this time. This time where I can be open with my thoughts and honest about everything while I can still bring myself to do it. Maybe save the things I want to tell those people to send later in words that I could only come up with now. With the thoughts that leave me as the sun continues to rise and the darkness fades before coming back later with its crushing and bone shattering grip so tight I can no longer cry out to anyone.

It is these thoughts that keep me up at night that I can only ramble about in these hours as I lay in bed so full of emotion and some form of contentness that I am so far removed from the world that nothing feels real. But it's not unpleasant as it would be any other time. At this time it's welcomed. Reality is so far away it hardly seems like a fair concept.

My thoughts are jumbled and incoherent to most at these times but to me this is the only time they ever make sense. When I can understand my own thoughts and feelings and when the words flow like honey even if they aren't as poetic and beautiful as much better writers. They don't need to be. I am no writer. I'm an artist. My talent lies not with words but with a pencil and paper and maybe a bit of music to help me along.

I suppose there is a weakness to me. I have plenty. I couldn't name them all if I tried. But everyone has at least one. And right now, I'll allow you to become acquainted with one of mine. Endings.

~Spade