The deepest part of night. Where things still go bump and boo and you can't be convinced that the shadow is just a shadow.
It's a time of night when thoughts get dark - things are bigger, worse, more troubling, more concerning - nothing is as it seems and everything seems as it shouldn't.
Rambling internal monologue is depressing and veers into the fantastical. Reality is tenuous and sleep is like a forgotten dream.
And through it all, there is a little person who needs you. For comfort. For snuggles.
She is your rock. Your grounding reality. Her eyes stare into yours, wide and dark pools of blackness - trusting you to be her rock.
And so you swallow your anger. Your self-pity. You find reserves that do not need sleep. And you hum one more lullaby...