I Am Out With The Night

08 September, 2018

For the longest time I thought I was the most creative at night and for the most part that's still true. I came home after a long day and took out my laptop, opened every social media, all my favorite blogs, and I read. I read things that were hard to read and things that were unimportant. I wrote about every single aspect of my life.

What I wrote was just for me and I'm not sure why I did it. I think maybe I wrote to just prove to myself that I can, to vent and let go and relinquish and explain. Because I thought about things over and over and when I know I had written it down I knew I didn't need to hold on so tight anymore.

Maybe I could write so much because I always did it at the end of the day and there was a lot to unpack. Maybe I was just randomly struck with inspiration those few times and now it's gone. Maybe I'm just more emotional at night, more scared and more free. I think about those Twenty One Pilots lyrics from "Ode To Sleep", the ones about not being able to go back to that dark place in the morning. About not remembering why you were sad or why you felt those things you felt, because you know all of it was real but you just don't feel it as strongly anymore. Could this be about the same thing?

"I'll stay awake, 'cause the dark's not taking prisoners tonight. why am I not scared in the morning? I don't hear those voices calling, I must have kicked them out, I must have kicked them out,"

I'm thinking about various other songs and how maybe it's common for people to just feel more at night, to not be able to sleep because they need to make something. It's not always about needing to get everything out and letting go but sometimes it's just about forming a bad habit of staying late and needing to remember everything. Not wanting everything to go by so quickly. Just trying to slow down time.

I don't like that I feel like I sometimes have to be in a bad place to be creative and I don't like that I associate so much of myself with being that type of person. Like writing about good things and enjoying the good things are just temporary. Like none of it is genuine enough to publish.

I've always been the type of person to procrastinate and I can't finish anything with a deadline until the night before it's due. I am convinced that maybe I can't work without this kind of pressure, as if my best work will always been done under emotional stress.

Lately it feels like the night doesn't speak the way it used to, that I've run out of ideas. That time and I are still fighting. We don't make space for each other anymore, I'm not looking for the same things I was this time last year. I've been trying to get back into that head space again and be that type of person but I know she's not there anymore. Maybe I'll be productive in the morning this time and find inspiration when things rise instead of setting.


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