There’s a kind of truth that only shows up when everyone else is asleep.

Not loud, not dramatic — just that quiet voice that waits all day for me to finally sit still.

01:48 AM.

My brain refuses to shut down, my heart is still busy,

and my thoughts… they walk around like they own the place.

I don’t blame them.

Some feelings only dare to speak at night.

The things I pushed aside during daylight come back and say,

“Alright, we’re talking now.”

The night doesn’t judge me.

She just sits with me.

And honestly?

She understands me better than half the world does.

Maybe I can’t sleep because my body is doing its own clean-up.

Too much happened.

Too many emotions.

Too many people tugging at pieces of me.

And yet, in this hour,

I feel something soft —

like the night is covering me with a blanket and whispering:

“You’re tired,

but you’re strong.

Rest here for a moment.

You’re getting through this.”

I don’t have to perform.

I don’t have to smile.

I don’t have to explain anything.

It’s just me, the silence, and the truth that finally feels safe enough to speak.

01:48 AM.

Still awake.

Still human.

Still moving.

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