Night Owl

I originally wrote this essay during English class, way back in my senior year of high school, in response to a prompt from This I Believe. A friend of mine suggested sharing it, so here it is!

I do my best thinking at night, when the sun has long gone down, and the house is dead asleep. The atmosphere feels surreal, not a whisper to be heard. Only the sound of the slow ticking of the clock hangs in the air, always omnipresent, yet oddly reassuring. It is in this environment I can truly focus on the task at hand, free from all societal distractions. No buzzing of the phone whenever a notification arrives, no cars driving by out on the streets, no noisy Chinese dramas playing in the background. The silence is truly blissful.

I do my best work in the dead of night. It is only when the clock is counting down and I am in my final hour that inspiration finally strikes. My surroundings drenched in black, the world around out of focus, like a photograph over-exposed to sunlight, this is my moment in the spotlight. Countless assignments, individual investigations, and one huge extended essay have been completed in these quiet hours, mere moments before the deadline. There is gleeful satisfaction to be derived from knowing how close I came to teetering over the edge yet pulling through in the end.

I’ve had my best fun in the middle of the night. When the pandemic hit, I found myself drifting further from society; it was the late nights playing Among Us with friends that saved me, providing me sanity and much-needed social interaction through the wholesome activities of murder and psychological manipulation. Movies, especially, are made for the night. I’ve never heard of anyone referring to Friday as “movie day,” and with good reason. Only when my surroundings are pitch black does it truly feel like I’ve been transported to another world.

I’ve felt most vulnerable in the cold embrace of night, yet it is this vulnerability that has brought me closest to those around me. I could never forget those cherished times as a child, walking home from the park with friends, giggling idiotically among ourselves while shadows danced around in the distance, the crimson hue of the sky fading like an after-image. Not a single face was visible, yet I was still able to clearly see every expression on their faces. These are the moments I will forever cherish.

Despite all that night offers, it is an unfortunate fact that society has something of a stigma against those who dare to venture late into the evening. Every year millions of teenagers around the country are forcibly thrown into an institution known as school, one that dictates their schedules for 8 hours a day, when they sleep and when they should rise. Only on the weekend is someone like me finally allowed to operate in their natural time zone. That is, until Monday arrives, striking back with the vengeance of a thermonuclear missile detonating in your face. That feeling of jet lag lingers throughout the week, leaving me reeling each time I have to wake up ahead of my circadian rhythm. Yet it is when it’s time to sleep that I feel the most awake.

I believe the dark of night is something to be cherished. Every person can discover a bit of themselves when the house goes quiet, the curtains fall, and the world fades out of focus, leaving only one person on center-stage: you.