Nothing Good Happens…

It’s got quite an allure, the young hours of the morning. There’s a certain charm and anticipation of what’s to come, the promise of something new and as yet unobscured and uncomplicated. It’s the promise you live for, not the eventual outcome.
The early hours are also, however, ominous and unforgiving. The witching hour, the 3 am creepiness seen in the Exorcism, the time dolls come to life and when vampires are free to roam unperturbed through villages and neighbourhoods alike. Maybe worse than all of the above, it’s that time of the morming when your drunkeness wears off, you’ve had all the sexual pleasure you’re likely to get that day and everybody else in the world goes to sleep. It’s that time when you’re left with your thoughts and only your thoughts, all narcotics aside.
Let’s be honest, there’s nothing in this world more dangerous to any person than that peroson themselves. You are your own worse enemy. No one will judge you as hard as you judge yourself, not even the gays. These wonderful morning hours is exactly the time for tossing and turning, thinking, thinking, over thinking, over complicating, self loathing and irrational freak outs. I know what I’m talking about here.
I tend to watch series before I fall asleep, and Californication has been my series of choice recently. Hank Moody leads this life of sex and drugs, lost love that is still around on the side lines and making mistake after mistake in every aspect of life. A few nights I’ve found myself drawing all sorts of parallels between myself and this fictitious old man character. Until the next morning, when rationale returns and takes me to a place of sanity, sort of, once more.
Moral? Nothing good ever happens after 2am.

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