It's two in the morning, and I can't sleep. I'm lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all sorts of things. About how time flies. About why people stop texting first. About whether it's good where I'm not.

Sometimes at night, these thoughts creep into my head—on their own, without asking. I don't chase them away, I just observe them. You know, I've noticed: the most honest conversations happen with yourself. In silence, when no one can hear.

Good night, if you're still awake. Or maybe it's already good morning 🌙