Somehow everything stings a little sharper, hurts a little deeper, and feels a little bigger after nightfall. Old wounds become rediscovered, and a highlight reel of anxiety plays on a loop at max volume. I try to find the pause button and search desperately for mute, but there’s simply no peace under the moonlight.
4am knows all my secrets, and it knows all my pain. It’s a strange camaraderie, built on the foundation of sharing so much between the silence. We both know the drill, and we know that our time together is short yet melancholy. I patiently await the first rays of sunlight, the first chirp of the birds outside my window, and that soothing feeling that people are awake in my world again.
I’ve always been told that when a new dawn breaks, last nights problems won’t feel quite so large. And it’s always held true. By the morning all my thoughts declutter, and my fears scurry away to the part of my mind which waits to be accessed at night fall. It’s the most dependable part of my day; creeping in like clockwork at midnight & leaving dust in its wake at dawn.
But perhaps the greatest irony of my life is that while I reckon with the challenges of the night, I am also very taken by all the celestial bodies in the sky. I have always looked up at the stars & instantly felt small, yet special. Their brilliance reminds me of how large this universe is, and yet I’m still a unique being created and loved by a God who made it all. When I photograph the Milky Way it never stops being enchanting to every ounce of my soul. The night sky is where my childlike wonderment is revived, but it’s juxtaposed by the weariness it brings once my head hits the pillow.
I suppose the night will always be my friend & foe. But for now I recognize my worthy opponent & work towards a truce.