the birds are yelling rather than chirping, almost mocking me.
every time I try to close my eyes, it's like ever inch of energy in my body wants to pull my eyelids back open.
each attempt to sleep is just a long blink.
there's a point in time in the middle of the night where you just think to yourself
"why?"
why in gods name am I awake, most importantly,
but why do my emotions do an intricate ballet dance of grand jetes and pirouettes as the sun rises?
why can't I tell the difference between buzzing from the coffee I mistakingly had at 8pm last night and trembling in fear?
why was I born where I was?
why have I met who I have met?
why is the human brain so incredible yet so ****** up at the same time?
whenever the world gets to me I shut down.
oxygen turns into anesthesia and my bedroom turns into an icebox. all I can feel is nothing.
a grey-blue leaks through the cracks of my  blinds, but my tired eyes register it as fluorescent. the only color in my life right now.
the world is grey but the sky is a blinking neon sign, reading "now open: Alexa's never ending emotions."
I read some fact online saying that a single file line of the Chinese population would never truly end.
I'm laying in bed, counting Chinese sheep.