It’s 4AM. Do You Know Where Your Characters Are?
Can’t sleep. Apparently the bloody stomach bug we just fell prey to has tacked a little proviso on for me: more insomnia. No, my stomach’s not upset. I just can’t sleep–so I’m poring over the copyedits on Valentine 4.
There’s a certain silence that falls around 4AM, one I’m all too familiar with. It’s an absolute silence, the darkest and deadest time of the night, and conversely when I do a lot of my best work. Only tonight I’m sure it’s not my best, since I’m tired but unable to sleep. Again.
Insomnia, quite frankly, is hell. I’d give a lot to be able to sleep regularly, as some people seem to do with no trouble. The engines of the night grind on in silence, and the regular daylight world takes no trouble over those of us that listen at 4AM for some sound to break that calm, and long for the soft darkness others take for granted.
Sleep that knits the raveled sleeve of care. My sleeve is certainly raveled, but there’s no knitting to be found.
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