Some nights I spend watching tv alone in my room.
Some nights I spend writing through an idea for a story I had earlier that day.
Some nights I read a book, I mean, most nights, I read a book and get lost in it.
Some nights I sleep early. Not to get enough sleep. But to shut myself down and not feel. Just not feel.
And some nights, when sleep doesn’t come, I stay awake and think.
Sometimes, I cry. Not because I’m sad. Or maybe I am. But it’s just not that.
Those nights when I cry, those are the nights when I feel I’m alone. And then when the thought of being alone sinks in, then I feel lonely.
Sometimes, I just need someone to talk to. Someone to listen.
Sometimes, I’m tired of being the one who always listens and gives advice.
Sometimes I want to be the one being comforted. And to be told that everything’s fine, that I’m fine.
And some nights, I just cry for no reason at all. Or for a reason that I don’t know of.