Why do I keep staying up so late,
And sabotaging myself,
Even when I’ve got things done,
And there’s nothing in my way?
I’ll be honest,
A lot of times,
It’s been because I’ve felt too good;
I’ve always felt my best in evenings––
The most relaxed,
And since evening always comes after daytime,
Then the combination,
Of positive activity,
—Can result in a mood,
That is to die for;
So why would I go to bed,
And waste all of that?
Right when I’m feeling at my best,
In a long time?
For it is truly,
Ironic, isn’t it?
Perhaps this is a symptom,
Of just touching the edges,
Of feeling better,
And that if everything lined up,
And circumstances could remain stable,
—If I had a growing social network (in person),
I wouldn’t fear losing it.