There is something about the nights that intrigues me.

I don’t know if it’s the stars.

Or the superheroes gliding through the sky at night.

The time when the broken comes alive is the night.

When the sun finally sets, the moon is visible in the sky.

Just like the broken, when their presence is not felt in the morning but it is in the night.

It is like a sanctuary.

When the world around them goes to sleep, they wake up from their oblivion.

An oblivion which can only be swept by the presence of night.

When the moonlight enters their bedroom window, they are changed into something they cannot recognize.

They become happy.

The night heals them. Heals them for the fight that awaits them tomorrow.

The thing about nights is the feeling of endless freedom. The feeling of infinity.

Throughout the day, you’re judged for you are and you put on a mask and live.

But in the night, there is no one except you.

Even though the nights provide the broken with sanctuary, they’re still afraid of the dark, because that’s where their pain is.

It’s an addiction, it drags them out for more. It thrives on your pain and sorrow but gives you a sense of hope.

A sick hope that gives you enough strength just to get you through the next day and back again.

And one day when you look back at all the nights that went in tears, you will know that you have made it just because of it.


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