I am a terrible sleeper.
It’s true. I stay up too late and sleep in even later. My shift at work is 1-9:30, so it’s not like I really have to be up early in the morning. And sometimes (usually on weekends), I do this stupid thing where I don’t go to bed until the birds start their racket and the sun starts coming up.
But the hour before sunrise is a beautiful one. The grey light just feels so goddamn hopeful. I guess it feels like anything can happen, because the sun isn’t quite up yet, so the day hasn’t really started. I exist alone in a sleeping city and the sun isn’t even watching. I can do whatever I want and feel whatever I want and be whoever I want.
This hour makes me reminisce. I think about marching band practice and impromptu camping trips and waking up for just a moment to watch my sleeping lover. This hour makes me cry. I think of all the things I’ve lost and all the things I hope to find. This hour makes me ambitious. I think about changing the world.
I feel silly and young and lonely.
This is my favorite time of day, whether I meet it coming or going. But it’s almost over now.
It is time for me to sleep.






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