I turn on the light in the kitchen, and three roaches scatter to the corners. Deb bought peppermint tea, but I can only have bitter black coffee tonight, to keep me from sleep. At 2:30am, I am the only one awake, and when I catch a glimpse of my tired moon face in the mirror above my desk, the years face me starkly. Have I done it even half right? Have I become the sun? I fear sleep because I fear death. Here it comes with it's pale grin, and am I resting? No, not until the light streams in through the curtains, and I collapse on my bed, a lone marionette without it's puppeteer.