It’s 530 am and my day’s just ending.
There are many cars on the road.
Their day’s just beginning.
They have stable jobs.
There are joggers jogging, people walking dogs.
They’re excited by the beginning of a new day.
I envy their concern about being healthy and taking care of themselves.
Day is their reality.
Night is mine.
We are in different worlds.
They are a creature of the day.
I am a creature of the night.
I am the night urchin, the vampire.
Maybe it’s my insecurity that makes me hide from the world, in the darkness.
Or maybe I’m just scared of the world and at night I feel safer.
I could stop for coffee and pretend to be a part of their world.
But my appearance would call me out.
So wouldn’t my smell, the stale booze and sour pussy.
The day-people would know I’m not one of them.
It would be painful to see the barista’s smile – so vibrant after a good night’s rest – dim before my very eyes.
She would still serve me the coffee out of obligation and because I was paying.
But my presence, my appearance and the darkness I exuded would depress her.
Some day I will maybe become one of them and join their world.
I can maybe kick the drinking and empty sexing.
But I’ve said that all before.
As time goes on, I see less and less daylight and more and more night.
That’s the pattern.
I haven’t seen a change.
This is who I am.
This is how I was made.
I don’t think I will ever be like them.