I love and hate the night. My T and I had a discussion today about how staying up late is bad for me, even though I enjoy it up to a certain point. But some nights, or if I stay up TOO late, I get severely depressed and lonely and self-injure. Soooo... I have to be careful about it I guess. But it sucks because I love how quiet the night is. When I used to live with my parents, the night was MY time. They were asleep so no yelling in the house. (They fought a lot.) So I relished staying up, except that my dad would tell me if I made any noise after 10pm I would be grounded. I'm sorry, there are a lot of elements to my story and I don't mean to be confusing. Nighttime is my love-hate relationship, perhaps an abusive relationship, it will tell me it wants me, but then it hurts me.