I should be sleeping right now. It’s 2:03 AM, but experience has taught me that creativity has no internal clock. I have been inspired to write, therefore I must do so. Why is it anyways, that the early hours of the morning or the late hours of the night are when all my best thoughts kick in? Here’s what I think: At such ungodly times, when the sky is empty, and when the neighborhood is shrouded in darkness save streetlights on the corner, I feel safe. It’s as if no one sees, no one knows, and there is no need to suppress my expressive nature. I can feel free to write what I want without fear of judgment or scorn. I think that comfort is what keeps me up for it is such a rarity in daylight, I must savor it.

I’m currently stuck in the void that is summer after my final year of college. Finals ended and I faced the month of June with the typical spark of a freshly-independent young adult. Scary thought, no? I was determined to return home and show everyone that I had transformed into the kind of girl poets write about—that somewhere, in some dark corner of an apartment in the city, someone was writing about me because I was unique. I was my own. There was only one problem.

How was I supposed to expect people to see me as exceptional when I had no firm ground to stand on? I’ve since learned that in order to be respected for knowing who you are, you have to have more than just an idea of who you want to be. You can’t simply just imagine your picturesque persona and leave it at that. You have to live up to your own expectations before you can be honored for your independence. This is the crossroad which I currently find myself sitting. Hopefully soon the path I should take will reveal itself.