...

The tears come in quiet moments.
When the night has fallen and the stars awake in the sky;
when the city goes to bed, and the clock creeps slowly on to midnight.

Finally alone -- and I cry.

I cry for the sorrow, the hatred.
The pain. For the hunger and sickness -- for the loss.
But mostly

I cry for the children.

night time...

I spend little time outside. I realized this two days ago, when I was lying on the grass at the park and I was struck by the fact that the sky is blue. Running an average day's schedule through my head, it became clear that being outside isn't really a "thing" in my life. Which is very sad.

As I've thought about it more, I've also realized that I do get outside -- I just get outside during the night time. For some reason I'm a lot more comfortable outside when the sun has gone down. Perhaps it's the fact that it requires zero sunscreen (I burn like you wouldn't believe [no, really -- I get sunburned sitting at stoplights with the car windows rolled up]). Or maybe it's because it's dark and that means my eyes don't hurt, which means no headaches from bright sunlight.

Both contribute to why I prefer venturing out of doors at night. And -- this is just sad -- there are a lot fewer people out after dark. No one bothers me at midnight when I'm sitting out in the driveway looking at the stars, and no one wants to talk when I'm driving down the freeway at two in the morning with the windows down and the radio turned up loud.

I like the night. I like the quiet, and the coolness -- I have a rather startling number of sweaters, so the cold doesn't bother me too much. I like that the rest of the world is sleeping and that I'm not. Sometimes it's lonely. Sometimes it's very lonely, and a little scary. But I like to think that somewhere, there is someone else enjoying the night time, just like I am.

While all of this is fine and good, I really should get outside in the sunshine more often. I don't think the moon produces any vitamin D, and I might be less depressed if I get out of this vampire-like habit and, you know. Interact with day time lovers or something.

i'm wide awake...

I've slept for about 12 hours in the last three days.

Just can't sleep. I can honestly say that I am in a constant state of terror. Literally, I'm barely functioning. TERRIFIED (and annoyed because all of the sudden my "o" key is struggling a lot).

However, I found a good way to get my mind off of things. It's called North & South on Netflix. Last night I couldn't sleep, not even with the night light on, so I got on the computer and searched Netflix for kicks. There it was, like a shining, glorious beacon of hope and truth in the dark -- Mr. Thornton and Miss Hale, fighting for their definitions of justice and mercy, passionate in their beliefs and their eventual love.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I only watched two episodes last night -- up until three because I was too exhausted to sleep.

I wish I didn't have to go to school anymore. I'd just stay awake all the time, because I wouldn't have to try and sleep.

On that note, I curse the "o" key and say good night.

i made a better baby...

I am writing to celebrate a momentous occasion. I have now, officially! Slept through an entire night.

It's momentous because that's the first time in years. Literally, years. Even when I take sleep aids, I wake up two or more times and have a hard time falling asleep again. Last night, however, I slept straight through, like I used to when I was a wee thing.

Really, I was a good sleeper when I was a baby. My mom said that she woke up often to make sure I was still alive because I never cried or made any noise. She'd often find me just staring up at the ceiling, thinking whatever baby thoughts I had in the dark nursery.

Or perhaps I wasn't a good sleeper, if I was so often found awake. Maybe I was just a very quiet, very young insomniac.

Sleep feels good.

I could get used to this.

dark of the sun...

There are many winter nights when I take the long way home. Get into the car; radio and heater off; stillness and cold my traveling companions. I delay returning for as long as possible, taking detours along familiar roads that are transformed into strange paths by the misty quiet of the night.

Winding through my city on a cold, silent night, there is no one out. It's a comfortable loneliness, knowing that indoors there is life, and out of doors there is me. Inside are the living. Outside I am a silent observer, unseen and unnoticed. A phantom with a heartbeat. Watcher, thinker, drinker of cold and darkness. Taking in the night.

The world looks so different in the darkness of winter. The street lights and stoplights of green, red, yellow, white, blur in the cold air; a fuzzy halo shines around each bulb. A halo rims the moon as well. There is a tale I heard once that says that the number of stars inside the ring around the moon is the number of days it will rain. There are no stars in this night. No stars--only light from man and from moon.

I have no fear of the night. Yes, what the night holds can be frightening. However, it is not the night that one needs to fear, for it is in darkness that one can find peace, serenity, and answers. There is comfort to be found in the stillness. There is comfort in the night.