I hate nighttime.

I hate nighttime because if I stay awake for long enough, if my house is quiet and still and I am alone with my thoughts, things become...strange. Weird snippets of sentences, stories, poems flood my head, and it's all I can do to scribble them down before they leave again.

In the morning, I don't know what to do with the Post-Its I find stuck to either side of my door and the dust jackets of my favorite books. I usually tuck them away somewhere where they are quickly forgotten.

But I think that's a shame. They might be strange, but these midnight thoughts are valid.

And yes, they're cheesy, yes, they're dramatic, yes, they're over the top - but sometimes that's okay.