I'm up late, even though I am tired. I have been up late for days, because I am on vacation and I wanna.
My eyes are gritty with fatigue, dry from staring at a crochet project for hours and then my monitor for more hours. Why am I not in bed?
I am certain, absolutely positive that after I go to bed is when the magic happens.
The funniest joke I never heard.
Unicorns and Santa Clause.
The precise moment when everything in my world makes sense will strike, and I won't be awake to recognise it.
I want to do yoga; to run outside in the cold and rain; to beat the hell out of a heavy-bag (I don't have a heavy-bag, dammit. Dear Santa...)
Mostly, I just want the secrets of the night.
And, I really want a cigarette.