I’m sitting here at the computer, sort of reluctant to move. It’s 4am and the feeling is familiar.
For some silly reason, I sifted through old emails and Google chats in my primary account, and it reminded me that me sitting to blog at a strange hour in the night isn’t new.
Long before all the madness of motherhood, before the intricacies of marriage, back in the days when I was single and just another uni student, I was already doing this. It’s the feeling of wanting to talk to someone about something, but not having a soul awake to listen.
There is a restlessness that permeates through the night and I often drown in it. I do not know why it gets to me, but it does. I am not depressed or suicidal or any other negative thing. I just am a mixture of melancholy, uncertainty and sleeplessness.
Tomorrow will be another day. And with the sunrise, the secret insecurities that haunt me in the night will vanish, even if just for awhile.