Insomnia.

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I love the night in all its levels; the sunset with its condensed sunshine, nightfall and the first starlight, glamorous spicy airs infused with moonlight. But that's only the part of the night which feels so alive, and it's when I'm the person I know, the girl with sparks of productivity and hopefulness in her spirit. Yet there are these hours that follow, which I used to spend asleep, but now lie awake in my bed, contemplating.

I become a person so disparate and I could hardly recognise who I am. The stars start vibrating slightly, contrasting gloriously against the navy blue canvass. I feel a voice other than the one I usually produce through the air passing through my vocal chords; an air crystalline with bright sunlight now concussed with shadows. At this part of night, I'm full of life; life I had gathered during the day, and I can hear myself in deep reflections, going through scenarios, feeling emotions occurring only in my wildest dreams, watching myself do things I would never dare to do.


There's this part of night which I recently appreciated, when I sit in the balcony and feel the navy air brush my skin softly, allowing my soul to surface. I become so infinite that I could reach the void because at night, I'm just a reflection on the mirror. I become an echo of my laughs and inner conversations and honestly, I'm relishing that part of me I had discarded.

I used to spend the nights asleep, but now insomnia is creeping up to me slowly, engraving  my eyes, perishing my anxiety. The serenity, the calmness of the world allows me to sink into a state of unearthly consciousness, and it's too good to give up. All I know is that I need to get up the next morning, watch the sunrise, sing with the birds and.. breathe in.

It's currently a beautiful hour, and I'm breathing out, exhaling, allowing my nostrils to release not only humid air but clouds of unprocessed ideas, releasing them to the atmosphere for the world to interpret, in hope I would regain my awareness the next day to receive the omens and messages.

The night is singing my a lullaby but I refuse to sleep, not when my senses are blazing in meditation, not when my soul is full of questions left unanswered.
I ask myself: how many nights left?

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