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    I miss people. I miss going to the park in the middle of the night, watching for werewolves and other mystical creatures lurking in the dark path. I miss walking aimlessly under sprinkles of rain, talking about old friends and old habits. I even miss the quiet sittings, where in my mind all that would breed was whatever I could not see; and I would think about sleep and how cozy I will feel once I get home and lay under the covers. The sound of sleep is so tempting always. There are nights where I feel so awake, that only misery burdens me with excuses. I was an owl living on those nights. Now, I devour the daylight as if it were the instrument playing my music; the substance keeping me alive. As it gets darker, my pace becomes steadier, until I do not even realize that I am talking to cats and running from faceless soldiers in a battlefront that does not exist. I wake up to feel it all still drifting in the noticeable air.

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