Night is always the hardest. Why is that? It’s generally my favorite part of those 24 hours each day, but when your world is changing, whether for good or for bad, night is always the hardest.

I spend too much of my day with too many questions and what if’s running through my brain. I should be allowed to shut it off at night. But instead it just intensifies. The possibilities and directions get more outlandish. The happy endings seem farther and farther away.

I need something to work out. Something to happen. Something to point me in a direction, something to go good for once, to be fucking amazing. To matter. To last. To not be so fucking hard. To not take everything from me, while only giving a quarter back.

Listen.