2am Inspired by L.S’s 2am

It’s 2:36am and I’m still awake because 2am isn’t anything like in the movies. 2am isn’t for those star-crossed lovers who lie under the starry night sky, dreaming for better days and warm embraces, all hoping for a better tomorrow that will never come. It’s for the poets, the writers and dreamers who can’t sleep because their minds are alive with marvelous words and declarations for someone who’s not there, who’s never going to be there and probably was never there in the first place. It’s for the alcoholics drinking themselves into oblivionation and the smokers who try to hide it all behind some false glaze and a high laugh, all just to forget someone who left without even a first thought to begin with. 2am is for the lonely, the ones who are in love with the loved but are not loved in return. It is a time for us, the damaged souls, so we can trick ourselves into believing we can just get right back up and start anew.

But that’s exactly what it is my friend, a trick. One that starts to wear off in the early hours of our dreaded mornings. It’s then we wait for our next 2am, our next fix. Like clockwork. We go ‘round and ’round until the batteries run out and we can’t find it in ourselves to get out of bed in the morning.

Because what would be the point? We’ve given up by then, we always do in the end. We’re cowards, every single one of us and although most won’t admit it, the truth still lurks in the shadows. It sits on our shoulders, whispering out our little fears into our hearts all day long. There it checks in, it sits and waits for the right moment.

For an opportunity to cut deeper inside of us.

But then again, it’s our own thoughts and insecurities that cut deeper than any blade ever could, than any deadly whisper. Our thoughts do the most damage. They rip us apart from the inside out, evil little smile on their nonexistent faces as they watch us put on a show for others. It’s like a circus show for them, one they know the ending of and somehow that makes it all the more better. Our thoughts are our demons.

And frankly, there’s nothing we can do to stop it. Some don’t even want it to stop, minds set on believing they deserve the torture, the pain. I admit to being one of many who are convinced they deserve to be buried in the dark, trapped in a water filled tank with all my secrets, to slowly starve off of them.

After all, monsters don’t get second chances, right?