(some people used their nights in other ways, other forms of bliss, but she had no time to dream)
There weren't enough hours in a day, not nearly enough; twenty four hours, one thousand, four hundred and forty minutes is nothing, nothing when seven of them you spend at school or work or sitting and shitting and shoving and hours, hours in a car, waiting in lines for nothing, and eight hours you spend to sleep. No time for anything.
The important things, reading and talking and writing and singing, dancing in the rain, serenades in the shower and connecting with the other people you need, looking at the world, seeing the beauty, adventures for a lifetime - there's is no time set aside for. No designated place to say – here is where I laugh and this is where I learn about myself and there is where I create something new and bold and that, that? That's where I fall in love.
She uses her nights, than. Dances and writes and talks and sings and wonders, because she can't live a life of repetition and waste. And she star watches and studies the moon and precious little things like the how and the why and the when. And, yes, the shadows beneath her brows have swallowed her eyes whole, but she's living, you see? She is doing. Learning everything, everything, and she's not wasting time.