So, I am awake and it is nearing two AM. I’m soothed by the sounds flowing from my open window beside my bed, a train in the distance and the sound of the wind hitting the leaves causing them to sway back and forth. I cannot sleep.

This is nothing new. It has always been me, my laptop, and the moonlight flooding my bedroom casting shadows where they are needed. My mind is wandering into deep territory and my eyes begin to flood with tears once again.

I’ve always found comfort in the night. It was something about the way the moon peered over the clouds, how silent the house got when everyone but myself, was asleep, and it gave me time to myself. However, now I fear that I have grown too accustomed to being alone. When I am not at home, I crave to be in my bed, buried in a heep of blankets, only wearing a large t-shirt that is not  my own, and watching Friends in the background.

I’ve started to fear being alone with myself, I don’t like when I become her anymore. Being home alone is starting to feel like a cry for help, for someone, anyone, to come and releave me from attacking myself emotionally.

And all this is is a little insomnia, that’s insanity.