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Archives 2001-09-11 - 2:53 a.m.


Sleeping is such a chore.

I've always had trouble sleeping when it counted. Always. As if my cranium was one vast open expanse, as the wind swirled in, buffeting my innards. One by one, the thoughts pop into my head, and I'm resigned to the fate before me.

I laid there, eyes wide open, wondering when the night will end, and the morning will begin.

Soon.

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