Late Night Musings

Why I Can’t Sleep

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There are these moments in my life where I’ve been completely honest. Devoid of any thoughts of, “That’s not how I really feel”, but letting out the truth. And honestly, I’m usually alone. I live for those moments of clarity, because most of my life is covered in this hazy fuzz. Unsure if anything is real, I just keep moving, until honesty is my only power.

The Night fuels those thoughts.

As a writer, this is the only time of the day where I am alone with my miserableness. Every secret, every anger, every doubt, every sad song becomes a confused medley in my head. If I lose it now, did they ever exist?

I could choose to sleep earlier. I need to wake up early for so many different reasons, but every time it gets to 10 pm. I suddenly force myself to stay up just a few moments longer. I find it weathering to imagine facing yet another day of life. While that sounds awful and cynical, I don’t mean it in that way. I am in, what they call, oceanic bliss, at night, and the thought of losing that too soon by succumbing to sleep is frightening.

My mind goes to every possible direction it can go to, whether it be failure, hope, disappointment, regret, jealousy. I think about all the books I should have finished, all the homework I didn’t get done, and the idle moments that could have been utilized better.

The truth is, though, that art, in its various forms, is highly anti-social. We create in our heads, we thrive in solitude. I think that is bitter beauty in creation, while you need hundreds of people to make it real, only one person holds the burden.

I remember reading an article by Neil Gaimon, and it pretty much said that when you feel an idea coming, don’t let it go. That’s what makes us different from other people. We notice the world with so much more clarity that others around.

So I say this to all writers, all composers and dancers, all singers and poets, when you are sitting on your bedroom floor, exhausted and dejected, know that there are a thousand of us behind you. An army of lost souls. You can’t expect people to understand, and they don’t need to.

Because you have the indomitable will of the dreamer.

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