It's at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull.  I don't know if anyone has ever pointed out that great attraction of insomnia before, but it is so; the night seems to release a little more of our vast backward inheritance of instincts and feelings; as with the dawn, a little honey is allowed to ooze between the lips of the sandwich, a little of the stuff of dreams to drip into the waking mind.  I wish I believed, as J. B. Priestley did, that consciousness continues after disembodiment or death, not forever, but for a long while.  Three score years and ten is such a stingy ration of time, when there is so much time around.  Perhaps that's why some of us are insomniacs; night is so precious that it would be pusillanimous to sleep all through it!  A "bad night" is not always a bad thing.

It seems as though I get more accomplished during the night. At one point of another this sleep schedule of mine is going to come back and bite me. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed of it either. I remain neutral and I choose not to think about it. Except for now. My mind is a big cluster of tangled up wires and I know I have the patience to untangle them, but only at night is when I truly find that peace of mind. I can't go throughout the day without thinking about what I'm going to do with the wee hours of the morning. Most of which is spent drawing, writing, and youtube videos. 

Even though I wouldn't call drawing, writing, and youtube videos productive; I call it my place in my brain where most of my happiness comes from. I hate being alone and those three things, help me cope. 

Life is something that happens when you can't sleep. Or in my case, wish to not sleep.