The still of the night

There's nothing worse than the still and quiet of 4 a.m. to intensify and otherwise magnify feelings.

I tried to go to sleep around 2:30. As I laid there, the voices in my head got louder and louder. With the tossing and turning came an onslaught of tears. Choking tears that drenched the core of my soul.

I cried so hard my throat swelled shut.

There's nothing like the dark and solitude of the night to remind you that you failed at something, or you're not thin enough, or you're alone, or you have no money, and no job.

I know I am not suffering from terminal uniqueness and others have a much worse situation. I am empathetic and sympathetic to others. However, this is my life.

Someone told me it'd look better in the morning: It did - it was lighter outside.