Things always look better in the morning

I wish I could write what it looks like. If I could only capture the deep contrast between day and night, then maybe you would know. If I could I would pen the image of the sunlight on this page as it filters down through the tree above; how it shifts and flows as the leaves blow slightly, the shadows mirroring the movement.
When it's daytime, and you sit alone, back against a tree writing-always writing- and youlook up, you realize you're not alone. To everyone walking by, you're a part of the scenery. Students pass by, laughing as they recount the glorious tales of their Friday night, memories aged only a few hours, the humor not fully fermented, but enough to cause bubbles of laughter among those who appreciate that sort of thing. To them, you're one of them. Sure you may be one of the weird ones, but you're here, so you're alright. You're just the typical; the token, coffee drinking, notebook writing, bare feet, leaning on a tree college kid-you're alright.
But at night, oh, God help you at night. As you walk, alone, quickly, against the current of the sticky alcohol stream, the babbling passers-by all know. Maybe if you tried you could hide it. Even if you lit a cigarrette and met their eyes, then you'd be alright.
I'd write it for you now, but it's day so it is- I am- alright.