I found that disturbing the night's calm ambience was almost as gratifying as the ambience itself.

Maybe I should have given more thought to her thoughts.

Self-harm appealed to my sadness but I didn't let it coax me.

Would I come off as a creepy-stalker-kind-of-guy or would it demonstrate that I cared?

I found it hard to get motivated because I found it hard to care.

There were no snooty commuters at this late hour. They were home snug in their beds where they should be.

After spending the previous night the way I had, I felt I could afford to lose some of the daytime to sleep.

Maybe if you allowed me to blow off some steam, I wouldn't have been so frustrated when I had to find higher order fucking derivatives.

Acting with confidence, but inside lacking certainty, I'd told her I could.