I like night time.
When people go to sleep. When the streets are deserted. When the roads turn quiet and peaceful unlike during the day, when the noise from machinery and humans and the sight of vehicles rushing by gives off the odd sense of urgency.
Daytime, when it seems every eye is upon you.
Night, when you can comfortably sit on the terrace and smoke without the nosy neighbour staring at you the whole time.
When you can wander through the streets, alone, without the worry of running into anyone.
When the sky comes alive; the vast expanse of space littered with a multitude of stars and galaxies, a sight for sore eyes.
Night, when I can fully submit to the melancholy descending upon me. When I can be myself, absent need to maintain this disgusting charade.
When I can scream without anyone having to hear. When I can walk on the edge of the roof without anyone having to see. When I can breakdown without anyone having to experience the tragedy that is me.
When I can just be me.
