Tonight, we stray from the little white pill that promises sleep within minutes. Instead, we fight our instincts and attempt to keep the mind awake and create. A dormant time, a writer's block, an artist's block, is starting to fade and let rise another form of self.
Ah, how nothing makes sense right now, for my eyes are closing and my mind has already half shut itself down. The heat and the exhaustion make my body scream for sleep, for rest. Why, why do I deprive it so?
I can see pictures when I close my eyes, disturbing and odd things. What lays in my dreams tonight certainly shall be entertaining, though I am uncertain of the quality of the dreams.
I close my eyes again, and words and voices come to me. They tell me that things are alright; they will be fine. It is okay to deviate from the current in light of the new; do not throw things away but make room for what suits best.
Sleep now, my dear child. Sleep now, my dear self. Sleep, and rest. Sleep and rest well.