Good Morning, Midnight

Throughout the novel Sasha fears exposure by those around her; she desires to stay invisible under the guise of conformity, but unable to escape her past choices, she fears she bears the indelible mark of difference. Such a fear harbors a deep paranoia that manifests not only in her Luminal-fueled dreams but also in her inner dialogue as she attempts to find a way to regulate and control her emotions through a regimented schedule. She obsesses over the most minute details, including her posture, her hair, and her hat, and falls into a torrent of inner dialogue completely contradictory to the composure she hopes to radiate. Utterly alienated from true human connection, Sasha battles an internal struggle to maintain a semblance of conformity, which results in uncontrollable outbursts of emotion that often leave her overwhelmed with tears.

Sasha’s deep paranoia projects on the nameless, faceless people around her, from whom she constantly fears judgment and criticism. Every visit to a café or bar devolves into a panicked analysis of the looks she perceives to be cast her way. Even the houses she passes on the street leer at her as the world increasingly becomes a hell of judgment escapable only through alcohol and her numbing obsession with clothing, which she hopes will disguise her true alienation.