Hey Night Owls… anyone awake?
You know that feeling.
You close your eyes and they simply refuse.
So I ask myself, softly:
Self… what’s up? Shall we talk?
No.
Because if I reply, then we’ll both be awake until sunrise.
Let’s sleep.
Hmm. Okay then.
Let’s see how long you plan to keep this up.
G’niiiiiiiight.
I toss.
I turn.
I pray.
My tummy twists.
My heart pounds.
Whoa, girl.
Trying to tame myself feels like trying to calm a prized mare, all wild breath and restless hooves, refusing the stable.
The truth is, I love the ceremony of falling asleep.
The pyjamas.
The soft sheets.
The familiar comfort of the pillow shaped perfectly by years of surrender.
I love the ritual of turning off the house.
First the lounge.
Then the kitchen.
Then the bedroom.
Each light switched off feels like a gentle closing chapter.
The day begins to loosen its grip.
The noise softens.
Heavy eyelids droop.
Breathing slows.
There is comfort in that moment.
In that quiet agreement between body and night.
And then suddenly——
Morning.
I wake stretching toward consciousness like someone being called back from another world.
Five more minutes, please.
I’m never quite ready.
Each day turns to night with such familiarity that sleep feels like a promise. An expectation. A trusted friend arriving on time.
But some nights are different.
Some nights, you can feel the rebellion before your head even touches the pillow.
Sleep stands at the door, folds its arms, and says,
No.
Not tonight.
And then what?
Do I surrender?
Do I accept that tonight belongs to the overthinking, the quiet negotiations, the mind replaying conversations from 2009 as if they were breaking news?
Do I scroll until my eyes grow tired enough to betray me into rest?
I bargain with the night.
Please.
I only have a few hours before the day begins again.
Surely we can work something out.
But night has its own rules.
Sometimes it asks for honesty before rest.
Sometimes it demands silence.
Sometimes it simply sits beside you and waits for you to stop pretending you are fine.
Perhaps that is the real reason some of us stay awake.
Not because sleep has abandoned us, but because night is the only time life becomes quiet enough for truth to speak.
And so, fellow night owls, if you are awake reading this, staring at the ceiling and negotiating with your own thoughts, know this:
You are not alone.
Some of us are here too, whispering into the dark, asking sleep for mercy.
And eventually, somehow, morning always comes.
** included the two images I captured for reference:
