best kind of night

Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either; I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well.

Sadly I write in my quiet room, alone as I have always been, alone as I will always be. And I wonder if my apparently negligible voice might not embody the essence of thousands of voices, the longing for self-expression of thousands of lives, the patience of millions of souls resigned like my own to their daily lot, their useless dreams, and their hopeless hopes. In these moments my heart beats faster because I’m conscious of it. I live more because I live on high. I feel a religious force within me, a species of prayer, a kind of public outcry. But my mind quickly puts me in my place ...

Sometimes the best nights are the ones you spend alone. The nights are left empty, leaving you to fill the time with your thoughts that you keep locked in the back of your mind while the rest of the world is around. There’s thoughts you never even thought about before, but you’re thinking them now because there’s nothing left to do but to think. Sometimes these nights where you’re thinking too much can drive you crazy. But at the same time, it’s the best kind of night.