If the world is mum.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a great need to write. And so I did. And here I am, still writing and pounding words away. How is it that when you get older and further onto the calendar days, that sleeping becomes a small portion of your average day? I feel like we cram so much onto our days that if we could reduce the hours sleeping, we would.

I love waking up in the wee hours of the night. Everything is so quiet, with only the sounds of air conditioning running,Coco's light snoring, and my keyboards clicking. It's therapeutic. Almost surreal even. Remember when we used to light cigarettes in the middle of the night, outside the dorm rooms, catching that moonlight and glimpse of the wish-night star? With the cold breeze on your face and a wish upon your heart, the night with cigarettes on one hand and your heart on the other.. sometimes, those nights never really change.

Just taking in the silence of the moment, and hoping for the world to be less noisy when the sun comes up. Less raucous, less senseless chatter, less everything. Then you could hear the little whispers within and the realizations that you've been trying to avoid for years no end. Sometimes, it's just you and your little heart sitting together, not really caring about the chatter. Cuz finally, there is none. You know. Period. And the chance to just sit down and take everything else in, well, it doesn't come too often.

Silence. Hibernation. Whatever you call it, it has begun again. Lest I forget the beauty of staying still, keeping mum. Realizations or none, I like being this quiet. Sometimes, you just give up trying. or trying to understand. or whatever. Sometimes, there is just no point.

Monologue after monologue, this silence is the music playing playlist after playlist. Goodnight back, everyone. A few hours before the sun comes up. Off to dreamland once again. :D