some nights are hard. the darkness outside makes it too easy for us to reflect on the darkness in our own lives. the stillness in the night lingers a little longer. the sounds of the night elevated within the shadows. some nights there’s the town train riding through. some nights there are sirens. some nights are thicker than others. some nights aren’t worth mentioning. some nights are quiet. some nights are loud.
some nights I remember what it was like. being a scared high school kid in the dark, night after night, letting the other side of darkness take over and use the bobby pin in my hand as a tool or an object of destruction on my own skin.
some nights I reflect on how I used to shake and convulse on my bed during an anxiety attack. or a panic attack. I could never differentiate the two. those attacks were like clockwork. some nights turned into every night. every night turned back into some nights.
some nights I meditate on what I’ve missed out on. or on what went wrong in some areas of my life. this immersing weight lays on my shoulders, volunteering to drown me in the darkness of belittling myself.
some nights I forget to fall asleep. I’ll be too busy laying there, mindlessly scrolling on my phone. feeling like nothing I do measures up to the people around me. that the dreams I have don’t matter, because they’re too far out of reach.
some nights I end up crying. over stupid shit. over the ache and the yearn I have to share my life with a husband. or even a boyfriend. I’d honestly take anything at this point. it bothers me almost every single night, that I’m twenty-five and I’ve never been on one date. I’ve never been given that opportunity to know what it’s like to have someone want to be around you in the most affectionate way possible. I don’t know what it’s like to be around a guy who is genuinely into me. a lot of nights, I convince myself that I’m not made to be someone’s girlfriend or wife, even when that’s my number one dream in life. To marry someone who is worth the sad nights – someone who spent their nights wishing for someone like me. some nights I just want someone to keep the loneliness at bay.
some nights I’m thankful. it should be every night, I know. but life is hard, and it’s hard to be thankful sometimes, even when it feels like your body is aching out of heartbreak.
some nights I can’t sleep because I’m excited for what the morning will bring. which surprises me sometimes, knowing I would dread every night and every morning. that’s what depression does to you. it tries to claim everything. your nights. your mornings. your joy.
some nights I write into oblivion. the words peak at the cry of a night owl’s song, and I just can’t stop the words from flowing. that’s when I write best. when the people around me are sleeping, and I get to claim the stillness as my comfort zone.
some nights are hard to get through. but as my favorite Jesus Culture song says: “there may be pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning.” I didn’t believe that lyric. I wanted to, but I didn’t. but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that lyric as my anchor through the hardest nights. every night turned into frequent nights. and now frequent nights are just some nights.
~ Taylor Young