"There's something about staying up all night writing a paper that is so surreal.
It's the mingling of the words and the night that is so subtle and supple.
I would do it more often if it didn't hurt so damn much."
When the world is quieter, it's easier for me to focus, fingers flying and eyes locked on the screen. Even though it's more painful by far, there is something about the night time hush that is conducive to writing and thinking. The increased pressure of less and less time forces me to bridge the connections and string the words along. It's satisfying to see how much ground you can cover in so little time. Once I get past feeling tired and can ignore my human urge to sleep, I feel the skin sink into my eye sockets, the bright light from my monitor stings my bloodshot eyes, but the synapses are well trained to prickle and respond to the strain.
Pennsylvania is on the horizon. I will be seeing my mother on Saturday, luckily in the company of many of my relatives. It really doesn't matter how I act or what I say to her, I will always be the rude, ungrateful daughter. She is quickly becoming a stranger to me though, so what she thinks of me means less and less.