I love the night. It’s so quiet and still and peaceful and a whole bunch of other adjectives to describe being dead. If I was honest, I would say that it’s that tranquility that excites me so much. Does that make me a budding young necrophiliac? I think my need for a response and close personal connection with a partner prevents this luckily as I am very acutely aware that it’s myself I’m talking to most of the time.

Wow, I just seriously logiced myself out of necrophilia. Let’s move on…

I’m sure most of you would have heard of the expression “the harsh light of day”. I’m surprised the nocturnal hours haven’t been ingratiated with a similar yet opposing maxim. Unlike it’s counterpart nighttime seems to be the most pleasant backdrop to anything one could imagine. Listening to music, sex, creative arts, escapism, anything that involves sensory excitement.

It’s like the blanket the majority of people on my longitude are under right now. Actually, that’s another reason why I love it. When I finally do manage to be interested enough in crawling into bed and I pull up the covers, I close my eyes and imagine that I’m being surrounded by warm, loving arms. Like a fleeting hug that I manage to steal from someone for a loved one with the exception that I can truly be still and bask in its warm comfort for more than a moment.

I think all this pertains to the fact that you can let your guard down at night, you can be who you are, together with someone you trust, or alone with your thoughts or insecurities and dreams. There’s no one making demands on you, forcing you to wear a mask or three to save face and get through the day. The day is over and until the next one comes, you have a reprieve in which to rejuvenate.

Maybe that’s why I try and hide in this space, try and live there and never want to leave. Because outside of it, it’s so damn hard to stay sane, to play ‘person’ or ‘adult’, to deal with all this shit and then come back into this space I so dearly love and shelter in, and find myself alone, and vulnerable if I accidentally drag the real world in to this asylum of mine with me.

It’s also a fantastic time to take what’s in one’s headspace and find words for it to post on a little hidden blog…