Creature of The Night

I waited till the last of the lights went out, waited till there was ample time for my parents to fall asleep, then waited some more. The moment I was sure everyone else had fallen asleep, I fully awoke.

That afternoon I had already planned my escape - the lock on the back gate was oiled, my shoes laid out so I wouldn't have to fumble in the darkness, water bottle filled and readied. Like a shadow I danced down the staircase, skipping the steps which I knew creaked, and pocketed my keys from the table in the hallway. There was no need for an inventory check - where I was going, I had everything I needed.

The front door yielded without so much as a whisper of disapproval, and within 2 minutes I was out of my house, out the gate, into the world of the night. Every minute out was precious, so without turning back once I began to run.

It was only when I reached the reservoir and found a nice bench facing the placid waters, that I finally allowed myself the luxury of... just thinking. About things.

Since that night, I've stolen out of my house in the dead of the night a couple more times. I've become addicted to it. The feeling that you own the world, that you're free to roam wherever you please, that the worries and burdens and concerns and baggage from the day all belong to a different person, a different you.

I've visited HDB estates, neighbourhood playgrounds, 24 hr convenience stores, reservoir carparks. I've found little corners everywhere where you can just sit and observe the world sleep, and think politically incorrect thoughts that I normally would censor and bury immediately.

At night, unchained from the rigors of what I should be doing or thinking, I ponder what-ifs, explore past memories, excavate the bases for all the emotions that rule me during the day. I list what would make a Perfect Moment, question how far I am from such Moments normally, and plot to experience more Perfect Moments.

I think back to my Hanting 21 plan, and marvel at how far I've progressed or missed the mark, as the case may be. The emotional side of me battles with the rational side, locked in an unending feud over the respective amount of authority they deserve.

At the end of every excursion, I would retreat to my room, sapped, unfeeling, but at peace. Ready to face another day where something, something, just doesn't feel quite right.

I am a creature of the night, and I revel in it.