Day 157

3:30AM:

The debilitating wakefulness, the anger inside.  The unfairness of this all, screams aloud.  The silence of the bedroom is deafeningly brutal, laying waste to any hope of regaining unconsciousness.

The world is conspiring, to make me fall.  The world is conspiring, to make me crack.  The world is conspiring, to kill my hope.

This is not insomnia; this is all out war.

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