Are sleepless nights the key to my mysterious muse? Sleepless nights consume me, dreams floating in my head, a premonition to the sleep I know must come. Beginning as a simple diversion, I am swept away to a frustrating land of distractions. A single thought can trigger a domino effect that catapults me away from the dreariness I, seconds before, could not shake off. My mattress is a cloud in another world, lifting away my ability to control my mind.
First come the conversations with myself about people and current situations. But ever so slowly, I creep away from the present and evaluate my past, like a historian discussing the prime details in significant events of my life. It is a Socratic seminar of my innermost emotions and traits, each playing a student in its own part, analyzing every movement in my memory.
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