3AM. Witchy Hour.

3 AM. Witchy hour, as they say. Successfully spent the last hour tossing, turning, thinking over all my relationships in this life, past, present. Unable to shake this well-known feeling that everyone hates me, and everything I have ever done is wrong. Don’t trust your thoughts after 10 PM. Vomit crept up to the back of my throat before I swallowed it whole as imaginary conversations play out in my head. Often not in my favour. Rather than softly snoring, shaking uneven breaths escape my mouth as I hold myself so tight, fearful I will fall apart if I loosen up. Maybe that’s why people say I’m tense in the shoulders. Panic rises, remembering everything I have ever done or not done. Wash my hands. Hold myself tightly. Eyes shut as if the sweet relief of sleep would wash over me soon, ignoring the fact that my mind cannot be silent at any hour. Especially the witchy hour.