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Night time

A motorbike zooms passed in the near distance. It’s 00:53am and I lay in my bed with my eyes wide open, wondering where they’re going. ‘What’s their story? Who are they going to see? Do they have family? Why is this particular journey happening at this very moment?’

I stop. ‘Go to sleep’ I say to myself. I stare into the dark abyss that is my bedroom. My eyes relax and and begin to fall heavy. ‘I’m off’ I think, ‘Here we go, it’s time to sleep.’ and then it starts again.

If you were to ask me what ‘started’, I couldn’t tell you. If I had to describe it, the ‘start’ would look like lights in motion. Reds, Blues, Oranges, Purples, Pinks and Yellows. Flying beams of speed moving erratically with no real direction. As soon as the eyes fall heavy, the movements begin to gain momentum causing the eyes to open rapidly with laser focus.

‘You’re doing this to yourself.’ An accusing voice states firmly. ‘You want to be awake. You want to do something. Get up and do it. Go on, do it.’  I argue with myself internally. Attempting to convince the other part of me that I don’t want to do anything apart from sleep, but I fail.

Climbing out of bed, I stumble around the dark room making as little noise as possible. I grab an item of clothing that hangs on a rail in the corner. I don’t know or care what it is, I’m merely seeking the comfort of gentle warmth on my skin as I wander around the upstairs of the house.

I walk across the landing. Complete silence. Quite the irony considering what’s going on inside my head at this moment in time. I enter into the small room at the front of the house and I press the space bar on the keyboard. The screen wakes up and the white light burns my eyes, quickly reminding me that real lights and the lights inside my mind are very different.

‘Write about the motorbike’ I think to myself. The pressure begins to rise and I don’t know why. ‘Write the words from your mind. The ones that you said to yourself when you were in the dark room’.

I begin to type, but it’s not the same. The words are gone and so has my train of thought.

I felt I had something important to say, but just like a man with stage fright, I freeze, and my intentions disappear before me.

The feeling of the keyboard brings me back to reality and the descriptives I had prepared are gone.

I glance to the top right corner of my screen. It’s 01:57am and I think I’m done.

Nothing that I wanted to write has been written. Just like the person on the motorbike, it’s all now faded into the distance, never to be seen again.


I don’t know what the above is, but I needed to do it and now it’s been done, even though it’s nothing like what I had in my mind. I’m now going back to bed.