she stays up at night scouring the internet. she is sleepy all day, her eyes heavy with the desire to lie down and plunge into bed, but come midnight, she is alive. her days have been encircling each other, entwining, and vanishing. easily forgettable, nothing remarkable. night is when she has a whole world at her diposal. hers, and only hers. and she speaks to the night, it speaks back sometimes. she is tired, though. tired of sameness. this hunger for the unknown, for picking up and leaving, for challenge, is back. she wonders if there will be a time when it will cease to plague her. how do people stop wondering, stop feeling like there's always more? when?