😂PRIDE 2026, TIME TO RAISE OUR VOICES IN A LOVING ROAR!

A Trans Woman Falls in Love with the Dark Side

A story of my increasing attachment to the night

I used to be a morning person. Bright of eye and bushy of tail. I also used to be a man, but always not a terribly happy one. Hi, I’m Sarah, an emerging trans woman.

The 1.01 version of myself was childish in a great many ways, and like many small children, I woke early.

The mornings provided my brightest moments. Bouncing out of bed, I seemed to wake fully alert, bright, in a positive mood and ready for the unfolding day. For some reason, this also really annoyed a few people in my household.

But sadly this condition was only temporary and as the hours passed, I would slowly descend into a kind of saggy middle part of the day, then by the late afternoon I’d be feeling lethargic and depressed. That is, if I hadn’t had a drink or two at lunchtime, and sometimes even if I had.

Although I did have a social life, as I aged, nighttimes were often pretty tragic affairs. I would try to last through dinner, then evening somnolence would set in. I would usually fall asleep before ten in front of the television or with a book on my chest. I might have been ready to repeat the procedure the following day, but it was pretty fucking dreary.

But over the past twelve months, something new has happened. I’ve noticed a distinct change has occurred in both my mood and sleep patterns.

I’ve become a cheerful night owl.

The architecture of my sleep seems to have been substantially altered. I suspect this is the divine hand of the hormone goddess at work. My sleep cycle has shifted by about four hours.

I’ve given up going to bed before midnight as it’s a complete waste of time. I seem to have developed the capacity to power on through the late afternoon and into the evening, often having my best ideas at an hour that would have had me reaching for pyjama and pillow.

What is going on? Another change, more transition. Chronotype, one’s sleep and awake timing, is affected by gender, age and I guess hormonal status. Of each of those, the first and last have shifted considerably as my journey continues.

Happily, after years of feeling tired and spent at night, I have energy, and I’ve decided to take it out for a run.

So far, I am mightily enjoying this new version of myself, as I regularly leave my nest to make merry in the dark. While I work moderately during the day, by night I attend concerts, queer gatherings, pubs, plays and other night time events, not all queer, but mostly. Sometimes coming home late, and afterward, working on a story till the wee hours.

Whilst I’m not out looking for romance, there is something undeniably romantic about these night-time jaunts through the city. Having a relationship with myself for the first time, I suppose I’m in the honeymoon phase. Though I meet different, lovely women almost every time I go out, I enjoy being with myself. I even bought a ‘proper’ ring to mark this joyful array of feelings. I’m wearing it today. To me, from me, with love. The purchase marking another milestone.

I’ve also come to love the experience of being abroad in a dreamy, dark landscape while others sleep. Riding my bike fast over emptied roads at midnight. Darkened windows and shopfronts become simple black shapes, free of visual clutter, as I sweep through darkened neighborhoods, marvelling at the peace and revelling in the freedom.

When I arrive home, it’s to a place which feels welcoming and safe, and as I finally slip under the covers, I am properly tired, often with music still ringing in my ears. All I notice is a sense of contentment and how I’m really, really happy. Nothing else. Though judging by the smears of makeup on my pillow and the heels lying about the floor, I still have a bit of work to do on the bedtime prep.

There is of course, the expected downside to my new found nocturnal functionality. The mornings have become something of a struggle. The alarm goes, and bleary eyed, I try to focus enough on the little screen to turn the annoying fucker off. Without it I’d sleep till ten. Then with mixed success, I try to down a full glass of water, before stumbling down the stairs to the coffee machine. Help, I plead as its little brew buttons take their own sweet time to illuminate. Tuesday mornings are a particular challenge as I have to leave early to look after grandchildren. Somehow I manage through the chaos.

Feeling relaxed about timing is also a new companion, no longer suffering pangs of anxiety around strict adherence to a schedule. I know the roof won’t fall in if I am fifteen minutes late for dinner.

Anyway, these days, it’s not dinner, but what I might do afterwards that has me scrolling through the lists of venues and events. Tonight a queer roof top dance club is calling my name.

So, after all this time, I have a night life. It’s another welcome part of my new existence, and fills me with joy. More and more frequently, the last thought before I close my eyes, is that I hope tomorrow will simply be a repeat of today.

This story is a response to the Prism & Pen writing prompt, **Pride 2026, Time To Raise Our Voices in a Loving Roar!**

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