I don’t exist until midnight. My mind isn’t awake until midnight. My heart is numb until midnight. When the clock hits 12, I come to life. I find myself alone in my house thinking about everything. Thinking about you; oh how I love you. Realizing how scared I am to lose you. Thinking about how alone I feel sometimes. Knowing that my mind will never be accepted for its depth; at least not here. My writing won’t be accepted for it’s true beauty; at least not here. I ask myself what it’s going to take for people to notice my words? What’s it going to take for me to feel okay again? Questions I can’t find the answers to. It’s hard because the only person I can talk to can’t always be there. Are you there?