4:00am

I should sleep, but I probably won't. I'm half drunk on words and fancies, revelling in the solitude that's really only possible alone at night. I've been sleeping in much too frequently of late, so it seems an all-nighter is my only option to break back into my typical early-to-bed-early-to-rise sleeping habits.

The ticking clock and my own typing are the only sounds present in the house. Every sane person in the world (or in my time zone at least) is fast asleep. Another reason why I won't be joining their ranks anytime soon, as if I really needed one.

I do enjoy the productive feeling about early mornings; the early-bird-gets-the-worm, crossing-items-off-the-list, energetic feeling that can only be achieved through waking up early in order to get a head start on the day's work. But I do love night. The stillness, the quiet, feeling as though you're the only person in the world, the thought that 4am really doesn't belong to day or night but to the odd, near-magical empty-yet-weighted time in between. Existing in that nameless part of the day/night cycle. Feeling oddly revitalized as you accomplish little tasks you have been putting off for ages, though knowing an afternoon or midmorning nap will be necessary to restore full normal functioning for the rest of the day.

It seems odd to think I'm usually asleep at this hour. I'm half expecting to be called upstairs, called away from my thinking and writing, but of course no interruption will come for hours and hours. Everyone else is sleeping. Maybe I should be too.