Every single night. It comes. I go.

Past 12 every night, silence and solitude seem to come as marching guards, arresting me, transporting me to a place i've become so accustomed to, i almost lapse into on my own once in a while. i somehow seem to enter another zone in the dead of the night, a zone that awakes many comatose thoughts, thoughts that practically cease to exist during the day. While i remain a confused soul throughout my knowing existence be it day or night, this particular time has the absurd power to make me realise that i am at my most conscious yet most vulnerable. The explosion of thoughts and emotions it triggers drives me to straddle between a dichotomous identity - my planetary and my fantastic.

In this process of struggling to subscribe to either my present or my past identity, the thought of 'What am i doing?' never strays from reinventing itself as an annoying pop-up window. I wish i had the means to block it out, but the 4 spyware-like words are almost adamant on making me reflect long and hard.

It cannot be my ego at work, for it has all along been characterising the end of my mortal identity. This big question unveils itself in limbo yet it hits me so realistically hard, all confusion and dilemma almost seem to freeze in its awe.

'What am i doing?' Really? What AM i doing? Im constantly revelling and indulging in my fantastic, the past that i know can never be restored and should be best kept and preserved in my museum of memories. Yet here i am, always digging out old treasures to peek at and glee to myself, hoping that i can once again return to the site where i found them. On the other hand, im also drowning with the crowd, going with the flow, living a material life dictated by my reason and logic. All that im doing now, all that im working towards are merely operations of worldly routine. But because i applied for this job, my personal greed so often numbs me and overshadows the void and meaningless nature of it.

So, 'What am i doing'? Despite this knowledge, i still cannot answer the question. Perhaps this is why those guards keep coming back to arrest me. Because even though ive always served my time, ive never truly poured my entire heart, soul and mind into it.

One night, one night.