The Witching Hour

They say midnight's the witching hour, but they're wrong. Oh, how they're wrong! At midnight, there's still a chance someone else will be awake, perhaps a friend one can phone. One can look out the window and see lights in the neighbors' windows. The online world still has people posting; the television world still has shows one recognizes and can get caught up in. One can pick up that book and step into a better world, or perhaps a world that makes one feel one's own world isn't really that bad. And if all that fails, there's still enough time before morning to stumble into the bathroom and find a pharmaceutical solution.

No, the real witching hour is about four in the morning. It's much, much too late to phone anyone unless the emergency room or bail money is involved. The world outside the window is dark, as dark as one's mood. The posting in the online world slows to a trickle; those television friends are much more interested in one's credit card information than in presenting a drama. That book's still an option, of course, but reading some times takes more effort than one wants to exert at such a time. Any chance of using a pharmaceutical option means one will be groggy most of the following day.

So, one is left with one's thoughts: reliving moments in time, trying to figure out how or when things went askew; pondering if life will ever be so free and easy again. Thinking about doing something one has promised to never, ever, ever do. Wondering if a drink or two or even a whole bottle will make one feel better; if this pill or that pill will help; wondering what this pill AND that pill will do...

Fortunately, four in the morning is close enough to dawn that one only has to get through a few hours before daybreak comes and brightens the world once again. Oh, but those few hours seem to last an eternity.