When I was a kid, my yaya would sometimes have a hard time putting me to sleep at night. And so, to motivate me, she would tell me stories of ghosts and goblins who took little children they found still awake, especially after midnight. It worked, most of the time.

Sometimes, however, I remember I would wake up in the middle of the night, in total darkness, and, being alone in my room, I'd imagine all those ghosts and goblins lurking about in the shadows. I'd hide under my blanket and feel safe.

Guess what? Twenty-six years later, my yaya was right. Ghosts and goblins do lurk about after midnight, taking those whom they still find awake. But ghosts of a different sort, more sinister and persistent: memories and insecurities, mostly, truths from which one cannot escape: like how great it is to fuss over someone, and realize that she really doesn't need the fussing; or to still miss moments, and not know exactly how to deal with them; or to try to hold on to anyone or anything familiar, only to find that you can't, because people have grown up and people have forgotten; or to find that you are alone, and stupid, and lost, and sometimes not good enough, and that you are numb yet hopeful, but for what?

Problem is, though, I am not a kid anymore, and blankets no longer keep me safe. Closing my eyes no longer makes the ghosts go away. Especially at 3:16 in the morning.