At 2am, writing feels like a necessary drug.
What I have is time to revel in the solitude this room is giving me. It's never been pitch black, thanks to the street lamp post in front of my window. It's always been welcome to the sounds of the streets: the stray dogs barking in the middle of the night, a rooster clucking at 3 in the morning, occasional motorcycle/car/truck passing by, rowdy people shouting invective at each other.
At 2am, you learn to drown out the sounds and sights outside your window and focus on the buzz of thoughts in your head. Pounding on the keyboard, head swirling with thoughts, eyes almost narrowing to slits - these are the stuff that make you want to just write.
While I'm troubled by the daily things that I have to face, I always look forward to coming home and lying down and just letting my cares lay to rest.
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