2am is for ghosts.

Night time arrives, my waking hour, and my cage of time. I open my eyes and blink at the ceiling, knowing where this will all be going again.

Another empty dream matching the empty night in this empty room.

I stare, then I sit up. I listen to silence while silence listens back at my every thought. I lean my head against the wall. Tears form edging the edge of my waterline and I blink, letting them roll down my emotionless face.

It's weird I cry and feel nothing. I wait for the draught and lay my head back down, staring at the ceiling, waiting again for sleep to overtake.