The title's from this song called "2 a.m." (by Alexz Johnson, from the Instant Star season four Soundtrack, check it out!)
I was just listening to that song when it reminded me of a concept I've always been fascinated with. "The waiting arms of 2 a.m." Ever have those moments when reading/listening to something, the words just click with you? They express a concept that exists in your mind, but you were never able to force into words. When you hear how somebody else expressed it so perfectly, that you're not the only one in the world who's felt it, it is just a good experience.
Well, that was the feeling I had about this song. It's about how she's trying to get over this guy, and she does okay, until late at night when all the thoughts come rushing back to her, making it impossible to get over him. I'm not caught up in some epic romance, but I can relate into the late night breakdowns.
I can never sleep. I always wish I was a normal person that can lay down at 10:30, fall asleep easily, and wake up the next morning and face the day with confidence. Oh no, that would be far too easy. I have to start out at about 11, in bed. I lay there for around 30 minutes to an hour without even approaching a sleep-like state. At this point, I either fill my mind with music or a book and hope that the elusive sleep will come soon. Some nights it doesn't take long. Some nights I repeat the process over and over until I get too frustrated about not sleeping to sleep. It's these nights when I relate to that song.
Eventually, all the playlists and novels in the world don't seem that interesting. I end up abandoning the bed, the manifestation of my frustrations, and walking aimlessly around my room. I often end up on my window seat, staring into the eerie quiet that is my street at 2 a.m. It's a weird feeling, a unique kind of lonely. It seems like you're the only one still existing in the present and real world, while everyone else is off in dreamland. Everything's on pause, but you're still trying to fast forward. Nobody else is looking at the moon shining on the abandoned toys in the neighbor's yard. Even the dogs have stopped barking at imaginary enemies and are asleep. Everything just looks and feels different at 2 a.m. Abandoned.
Then I start to think. Thinking without interruption is often dangerous. I never think happy, optimistic thoughts. These 2 a.m. solitary think tank sessions never fail to leave me feeling hopeless, and hopelessly tired. My mind spins tales of sure destruction. All my worries are amplified under the steady glow of the alarm clock, moving ever-closer to the dreaded hour everybody else joins me again in reality. Any inhibitions, or filters of optomism, that my brain usually employs during the regulated waking hours seem to fall away. Everybody I love is going to die, and I'm going to have to deal with it. I'm going to leave home and be on my own. I'm going to have to assume more and more responsibility. I've wasted my childhood and teen years. I'm going to be a failure. I'm going to disappoint everyone, including myself. What am I doing wasting time sleeping when there's a million problems that need solving right now??
Finally, finally the lateness of the hour overcomes the relentless cycling of my brain, and I fall asleep. Always just short of enough time, the alarm clock does go off and I get out of bed. The mere presence of the sun lessens the impact of the night before, and the burden I piled on my back slackens a little. Anything I moved during the night, I always replace when I wake up. I don't want to be reminded of the state I was in previously. I can't even bear to read the random ramblings I scribble in order to get my thoughts out. It's too depressing. I know I'll return there the next sleepless night, but I don't need to think about it right now.
So, in one beautiful song, so many of my nights are summed up. I always fall into the waiting arms of 2 a.m. These arms are not comforting, but they're always there. While I hate them, they provide a lot of my motivation during the day. I think maybe this is why I resist the suggestions of my parents to take sleeping pills or try all the tricks for sleeping the Internet offers. That time alone late at night is part of who I am. I'm afraid if I lost them, I'd lose a part of what makes me, me. A pessimistic insomniac.
(This is the most depressing first post ever. I'm not that much of a downer, I swear! Maybe the next one will be on a happier theme. I'm not emo, promise. :) )
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