Two AM: DAY EIGHT

There's something really beautiful about two A.M.
When everything is still and quiet and I can be truly alone, reading without regret.
Two A.M. is silent if you want it to be, tranquil, alone with a good book.
Two A.M is loud if you want it to be, silly, in a warm place with good friends.
Everything is more honest at two A.M. When it's dark and it's beautiful and everyone is likely to forget when they wake up in the morning.
Nothing is seems to be real at two A.M. The books, the music, the movies, the company. It's all there, until all of the sudden it's not. Until sleep gets in the way. And then in the morning, nothing is the same.
There's something about two A.M that seems inherently romantic. Safe. Like no one can touch you in your little corner of the world unless you invite them.
Nothing matters at this time at night. Everything matters at this time at night. You're allowed to worry or to be carefree. No one can judge you when it's two A.M. No one can touch you.
There's something really beautiful about two A.M.