Nighttime kicks daytime's ass. It picks daytime up by the collar and throws him down a bar counter, shattering glass and spilling booze on all the drunken customers. Then it grabs a bottle and breaks it in half, and I drew this metaphor out too long.
I forced myself into bed tonight at eleven after a vicious round of mario kart with Amy, and woke up ten minutes later without an ounce of sleep on me. The past few nights have been particularly sleepless. After a while the minutes just start to pile up on the floor, and I have to stretch my legs. I recommend y'all step outside at 3:30 a.m., take a solitary walk around the block (just not everyone at once, see, that defeats the purpose) and tell me that nighttime doesn't kick daytime's ass.
It's a kind of quiet you never see anywhere else. When you only have yourself to talk to, the quiet comes in good colors and in bad ones too. Easy to scrutinize yourself. Hate to say it, but I've probably had more conversations with myself than I have with anyone else. Everyone in the world should have the chance to be an insomniac for a week, I think a few obnoxious things would be absent from the day.