Who has two thumbs and likes to ramble late at night? This guy!
I hate late nights. I think of the problems of the world, I think of the problems of others and I think of my own problems. I dwell on issues I have no control over and I dwell not on those I have control of. I discuss what is best for me, yet I deny the obvious answer, sleep. For years I’ve seemed to be plagued by this insomnia. I know not if it is self-inflicted, or if it really is biological. Despite that knowledge I still sit, awake, aware and mostly aching. My primary purpose at this point in my life is school. But how can I remember the characteristics of the Middle Ages Cathedral schools when I question why I am here in Arkansas?
In a faraway room, right next door the dull roar of the long forgotten hum haunts my insomnia. I know the tune, yet it seems to be off, just a little. I whistle back and the noise stops. I wake up from a dream and my alarm clock screams. I do not even remember if I was asleep at all.