It’s an escape, a way out, a place to shut out the world even for a few hours.

Sleep is a friend to the lonely.

I don’t believe in the beauty of sleep.
It is overrated.
Over-fantasized, it’s made to look like the most beautiful thing to do when it’s cold, or raining.
It’s not, obviously.
There’s simply nothing to do, and the lonely ones have a lot of nothing to do.
So they sleep.

But there’s much more to do at night than day; it’s when creatures come out to play. Usually not from under your bed but out of your head, and that’s when we find poetry and art and all the beautiful things that sleep deprives people of.
It is in the state of no sleep that artists are born and poets are made; it is in the night sky and midnight eyes that stars form constellations and words and that’s why I believe in the beauty of feeling like you’re dying of fatigue.

Because it’s when you feel like you’re dying that you most feel that you are alive.


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