There is only so much reading that you can do at one AM. The romantic arc of the hero becomes a theme of your jealousy eventually, and wallowing in self-pity is not a good thing to do before you visit the land of dreams. You quickly become tired of unrealistic plot lines and the misuse of apostrophes. It's the loneliness, you assume. It's been getting in your way a lot recently.
There are so many songs you can listen to before you are sickened by all the emotion. Seriously- how many girls can misogynistic assholes try to win back before they realise that they have no chance? How many songs about 'losing on the dance floor' or 'being high as a kite' can there be? They are all essentially pointless in the grand scheme of things. But you will admit that it's secretly relieving that you are not the only one struggling with the raw emotion that hangs over you like a dark cloud, never quite knowing what to do with itself.
At one AM, you struggle to not wake people. Screaming until your throat bleeds, a scarily appealing concept at the moment, will not help. Disrupting the peace seems like a necessary and appealing idea. It's not the silence that annoys you, it's the absence of sound, not that there is really any difference. You desperately long for someone to lie beside you, whispering a conversation deep into the night, their body tight beside yours.
But you have nobody. You can't wake anybody. You are tired of music and of words. You are tired of being awake. But you cannot sleep. So you just sit. You sit and wait for sleep to take you like the monster you fear hides in the corridor outside your door. Sure, waiting gets boring. But it is routine. The one AM routine.
