I have lost touch of what the night means. Things I had grown used to now seem ages removed from me. I look at the time and I feel empty and hollow. I don’t know what to do with myself. I grow immobile. I don’t know how to go to sleep. I grow confused and no matter how many nights pass, the feeling stays the same. Hundreds of nights have passed like this. With each one I still tell myself that things will get better, that soon I’ll feel less confused, less lonely, less alone, less rattled, less unfamiliar with myself. I’m still waiting for that night when everything feels right. I’m still waiting for the night when I don’t have to meet myself all over again.