It's 2 a.m. again. The curtains are closed but lights still creep in and I can't quite figure why the blades of this ******* fan keeps blowing wind in my eyes or why the lamps never stopped buzzing your name after I flung it off the desk. I can't fathom the pain it takes to rid these weeds off my hair but I do know I could only grow flowers after I've plucked them all out. I can never finish cleaning the dirt under my nails and I'm getting tired of keeping them trimmed. And I believe I've waited far too long to still believe that ghosts do exist in these walls or that monsters do hide under the bed. I know what's good for me but the last red light I saw was at the crossroad. Please believe me when I say I can't fall asleep. This bed is far too warm for my liking.