I close my eyes in hope to see the black empty room of my imagination. The sun has reluctantly set, and it’s time for me to sleep. It’s time for my mind to shut down. But lately, my mind has been working over time. Instead of closing my eyes and seeing the black room of nothingness, I see words, pictures, moving clips, and hear voices. So much goes into the room of my mind throughout the day, but rarely do things ever come out. Memories get pilled up, conversations start to get cluttered, and it becomes a mess. Fast paced living gives no mercy, and rapid intake is required.
So at night… When things are still… When everyone is sleep… I close my eyes and rest my head to finally catch up on the dear sleep that I need.
This is the time that my mind realizes that it can try to fix, sort, and organize the chaos of the day. Dump what is irrelevant, and study what could be useful information some time down the line. I close my eyes but I cannot sleep. Hours of organization must take place before my mind finally shuts down for the night.
I am a hoarder of information. If you’ve ever seen the shows where people hoard possessions, then you can visualize all unneeded boxes and gifts and items that pile up all over their home. It’s so cluttered they can barely walk through their house. My mind is the same way. It takes in everything, and remembers all the small details that no one would care about. But for some strange reason, it tends to throw out the important information. It’s cluttered up there. Night is the only time that it begins to unwind for hours upon hours. No matter how tired I am, or how badly I want to sleep; it refuses to let me, until it is done.
This is my Night Life.
I will probably roam through the night, go to desolate empty parts of downtown, where all the restaurants have closed down, but the street lights are still perfectly lighting the narrow old fashion streets, have a music player that plays out loud with good quality at a decent volume, and passionately sing my heart out for the silent world to hear. (With a bottle of pepper spray. No doubt… Just in case…)
Through the night
I am crying out to you
and don’t feel I can go on.
But it’s in the night
that You whisper to our hearts
‘My child, just hold on.’