Night

She asked me what the night felt like to me what the night meant to me, and she pondered why i wasn’t scared of the dark. i wasn’t, at least i wasn’t scared anymore. but the night is my time to be awake, it’s my time to finally be alone without worrying about the day’s responsibilities, or the ones to come tomorrow morning. she asked me why the darkness wasn’t overwhelming, and i asked myself too, but i guess seeing a void fills me with pleasure, i guess it calms me down. because for me, the night used to be a scary time, it used to be full of my demons and maybe it still is, i don’t really know. but now, the night is full of promise, it’s full of hope and it’s full of a new beginning, one i tell myself i can take. for me, the night isn’t when the little girls cry for their moms to get the monsters from under their beds. the night is when the sun can’t see me, and i can lose myself for the time being. sometimes, my thoughts in the night scare me, and maybe it’s why i stay up till the birds sing, but other times, the night is my perpetual story, written from the lines in the stars. so when she asked me what the night felt like to me, all i could say, was that the night was a comforting friend, the night was the light in the corner of my room, the night was my eye of a storm, because more times than not, i’m the storm