The sky fades but the streetlight outside my window shines strong

1

I’ve never been happier in my life than at 1 AM on a Tuesday—my best friend and I were lying in my room together, talking about all of the things yet to come. A new year had rolled over the hour before, and we’d watched the ball drop on television and listened to the loud booming noises my neighbors were making as they detonated firecrackers in their backyard. We didn’t have a clue about what was to come. We were just alone in my room with each other and our dreams. Part of me wishes I could go back to that night—full of possibility, without any of the mistakes I’ve made since then. I can still see the colorful explosions we saw that night when I close my eyes.

I’ve never been lonelier in my life than at 2 AM on a Saturday night when a friend and I were spilling our guts to each other over text and my phone died. My phone had been shining like a beacon in the dark leading me to whatever salvation my faith in another could possibly offer me. I almost didn’t understand what was happening when the battery finally died—but there it was. I was suddenly alone in my room again. The real reason I can’t ever put down my phone is not because I’m always bored on my own so much as that if I ever go off the grid and lose that constant connection to the rest of the world, I feel so certain that I’ll just drop off of it and be lost forever.

I’ve never been more terrified in my life than when I woke up at 3 AM on a Thursday with the feeling of pure panic that comes after a really rough nightmare. I have about one memorable nightmare a year—I’m generally blessed with pleasant sleep, but I can still remember the nightmare I had at seven where the people at school mummified a girl just to prove they could. This time, I had dreamed about a serial killer—always there, even though I didn’t see him coming for me till the end. I just sat there—unable to leave my bed because the shadows lurking everywhere would get me—I knew that for certain—they would attack me or hurt me somehow or maybe they weren’t shadows after all, maybe they were monsters, the same monsters I knew when I was a child. I’d forgotten but when I was really young there was a special monster who always went after me, looked kind of like snoopy replicated using a black sock, named something like “sooty,” and one night I was so tired of being afraid that I drew it out of the shadows and made friends with it. I’d lost that somewhere along the way—the memory, and the way I could just stop being afraid. Maybe this is why I sat on my bed that night, huddled against the shadows, absolutely still, my bedside light the only barrier between me and my fears. Maybe this is why as I get older and older, I get more and more scared and cut off from the world. Maybe it’s just that I’ve forgotten how to make friends with my monsters.

I’ve never made it to 4 AM.

2

1 AM on a Tuesday.

The new year rolled over, the ball dropped on television

Neighbors set off fireworks in their backyards

We were just alone

together

with our dreams

I can still see the colorful explosions when I close my eyes

2 AM on a Saturday

my phone died

I was suddenly alone in my room again

I felt so certain that I’d just drop off the world and be lost forever

3 AM on a Thursday

This time I had dreamed about a serial killer

I’d forgotten but when I was a child

there was a special monster

always went after me

I’d lost that somewhere along the way

Maybe this is why

As i get older and older

I get more scared and cut off

Maybe I’ve just forgotten

how to make friends with my monsters.

I’ve never made it to 4AM

3

I’ve never been happier in my life than at 1 AM on a Tuesday—my best friend and I were lying in my room together, talking about all of the things yet to come. A new year had rolled over the hour before, and we’d watched the ball drop on television and listened to loud booming noises my neighbors were making as they detonated firecrackers in their backyard. We didn’t have a clue about what was to come. We were just alone in my room with each other and our dreams. Part of me wishes I could go back to that night—full of possibility, without any of the mistakes I’ve made since then. I can still see the colorful explosions we saw that night when I close my eyes.

I’ve never been lonelier in my life than at 2 AM on a Saturday night when a friend and I were spilling our guts to each other over text and my phone died. My phone had been shining like a beacon in the dark leading me to whatever salvation my faith in another could possibly offer me. I almost didn’t understand what was happening when the battery finally died—but there it was. I was suddenly alone in my room again. The real reason I can’t ever put down my phone is not because I’m always bored on my own so much as that if I ever go off the grid and lose that constant connection to the rest of the world, I feel so certain that I’ll just drop off of it and be lost forever.

I’ve never been more terrified in my life than when I woke up at 3 AM on a Thursday with the feeling of pure panic that comes after a really rough nightmare. I have about one memorable nightmare a year—I’m generally blessed with pleasant sleep, but I can still remember the nightmare I had at seven where the people at school mummified a girl just to prove they could. This time, I had dreamed about a serial killer—always there, even though I didn’t see him coming for me till the end. I just sat there—unable to leave my bed because the shadows lurking everywhere would get me—I knew that for certain—they would attack me or hurt me somehow or maybe they weren’t shadows after all, maybe they were monsters, the same monsters I knew when I was a child, and I’d forgotten but when I was really young there was a special monster who always went after me, looked kind of like snoopy replicated using a black sock, named something like “sooty,” and one night I was so tired of being afraid that I drew it out of the shadows and made friends with it. I’d lost that somewhere along the way—the memory, and the way I could just stop being afraid. Maybe this is why I sat on my bed that night, huddled against the shadows, absolutely still, my bedside light the only barrier between me and my fears. Maybe this is why as I get older and older, I get more and more scared and cut off from the world. Maybe it’s just that I’ve forgotten how to make friends with my monsters.

I’ve never made it to 4 AM.