I know 2 a.m. I know it like the back of my hand. I know the horribly suffocating loud silence.
I know 2 a.m. The over-analyzing that comes to a false truth. The spot on the ceiling that my eyes can’t stray from.
I know 2 a.m. I know it like a bad dream, the vivid ones that my mind can never forget.
I know the sheets beneath me that see me so vulnerable and yet so scared. The cicadas outside that become my only company, except for the contradiction inside me.
I know the suffocation that makes my throat tighten when the tears beg to come out. This only happens when the false truth hits my anxiety like the walls are caving in.
I know you know 2 a.m. Although, yours is different than mine. You know it like an ordinary day. It’s a routine.
You know 2 a.m. The moon has risen but it’s your sun. The freedom you feel when sound of your alarm clock comes.
You know the busy streets that become your vacant runway. It sees you in your prime moments singing the wrong notes outside your car with the windows down.
You know the feeling of being alive like you can conquer anything, including a drive to the movies with no map quest.
Our 2 a.m.'s are different. I wish they weren’t. Our lives may not fit together but our souls do. They dance even when we think they are still.