“11 p.m. is for single mothers who cradle a glass of wine in their fingers and wait for the sound of a child crying they hope will never come— it always does. 12 a.m. is for high school students to do homework they didn’t have time to do after lacrosse practice and dance rehearsal— they yearn to rest their tired eyes but cannot. 1 a.m. is for sneaking into your bedroom on a school night at seventeen, reminding yourself how tired you will be in the morning, convincing yourself it was worth it. 2 a.m. is for star-crossed lovers rolling in bed sheets smelling of alcohol and tragic dreams that ironically lull them to sleep. 3 a.m. is for hopeless romantics wishing under late-night skies for someone to talk to, for someone who gets it. And all of those people think they’ve got it bad, but when 4 a.m. rolls around the corner, the past sinks into your veins— 4 a.m. is too late for anyone to save you, for when 4 a.m. tells you, “You can’t do this anymore,” you believe it.”
— 4 a.m. (via achingchest)
