The Night Shift Is Long

Tonight, after hours spent alone at the night shift, I slipped into something softer, a small, quiet headspace where everything is okay because there’s someone taking care of me. The physical act was graphic and clear in its intent, to feel tiny again, protected. I reached for stuffed animals and soft blankets, letting myself cry over the absurdity of needing this much comfort from imaginary protection when reality felt overwhelming. It's a strange mix of sadness and safety that helps me through these long, lonely hours.