Winds sighing. There is a tune in my head, a rhythm that lulls me. There are voices outside, talking in low tones. I refuse to be drawn in. I'm too shattered. I only want sleep.
A near empty cup of coffee sits on my desk, beside me. The fifth this morning. I'm planning on my sixth.
All this caffeine every morning, just to jolt me awake, to keep me stumbling around in a zombie like state. Why can't I keep sleeping? I can't think about that. If I do, I'd only cry. I'd cry for what I can't have.