Some say people become stars when they die
That explains why they only come out at night
When everyone has cried themselves to sleep
And they wake up to the sound of rain
On their windowpane
Their crying reciprocated.


I wish I could sing
So that I could bleed my
Deepest thoughts
Through a microphone
But I won’t complain
For I have a crumpled envelope
and a piece of chalk
and that will have to do.

3:19 AM

It’s 3:19 AM and the world feels absolutely beautiful. Everything is so calm. It’s silent, yet the silence is screaming. It’s not an irritating scream, but like a blanket falling on you, ever so gently. It feels really peaceful to be up at this hour. Many people call this the ‘inhuman’ hour, yet it makes me feel the most human I’ve felt in a long while.
I wish I could reverse my living cycle. I’d love to stay awake the entire night, watch the sunrise, bask in the sunlight for a while and then sleep, only to wake up in the late evening. How surreal and blissful will that be?
There are faint noises of traffic in the background. These people with night- duty jobs are extremely fortunate. I’d love to drive a goods truck every night and just think, just like I am doing now.
The two clocks in my room tick loudly, almost simultaneously. During the day, the minuscule gap in their ticking would drive me insane, but not today. Right now the ticking seems to me almost musical, as if beckoning me to dance to it.
I’m sitting on the floor. I’ve always loved to do that. It’s calming, almost therapeutic. My pencil is gliding gracefully across my old, battered notebook. It’s almost as if my eyes are mere spectators, in this exchange of thoughts between the heart and the brain.
My room is untidy, but I feel so, in control. Everything is better at this hour. Water seems colder, quenches thirst like it’s never done before. The food tastes better. It’s almost as if it’s not reaching my stomach at all, and just messaging my throat lovingly.
The internet seems faster. The books seem better, when it’s so quiet you can hear each page turn. Even meaningless music reaches the delicate heartstrings. The eyes see better, they see more.
I almost feel as if I am dreaming. I never want to wake up. But I never even slept.