The smell of coffee fills every inch of my space, mingling with the golden glow of the lamp. The floorboards creak beneath my steps, and I feel the tightness in my chest. It’s 3 a.m., and I still haven’t slept a wink. My eyelids are heavy; my body exhausted in every way.

I still myself, closing my eyes and taking a slow, deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. I repeat this six more times, but the familiar sinking feeling lingers, relentlessly taunting me through the night. If only my mind could find rest, some sense of peace. If only I could make sense of all the things that keep going wrong, maybe then I could close my eyes. Instead, my mind is awake, loud, a carnival of “what ifs.” A carousel spinning on guilt? Fear? Chance? Or maybe all three.

It’s sensory overload at this hour. Every ride lights up at once, flashing with false urgency, a call to action I don’t need. Then begins the choir of anxious voices, offering to be the carnival’s bashful music. My fingers tap my desk to the rhythm of my thoughts, twitching to the music blaring in my head.

“Shut up,” I murmur, hands pressed against my face.

I reluctantly glance at the clock, an entire hour has collapsed. With a staggering breath and quivering lips, I sit at my desk. My chest rises and falls in a fixed pattern as I try to steady my breathing. This night wasn’t supposed to go this way. I just had some work to finish and then planned to unwind with an episode of Seinfeld. I can’t even pinpoint the moment I spiralled into this madness. But I did. Little by little, indulging every thought that crossed my mind, playing out every scenario that could, would, or might never even occur.

A laugh catches in my throat, “how stupid is this?”

I slowly stand, letting the blood rush down to my legs, and make my way outside to feel the crisp night air. No jacket, no shoes, I need the reset of the cold breeze. As soon as it hits my face, I loosen. I unclench my jaw; my shoulders drop, and my eyes widen as I gaze at the stars. They flicker in a soothing beat, winking at me from the dark half of the blue. The freshness of the air continues to fill my lungs, and I realise that all I wanted to do tonight was control the wind. But I can only feel it; let it ruffle my hair, whisper past my ears, and remind me that there are things out of my control.