The nights are long and empty, filled only with the sounds of tapping keyboards and filtered music, piped through fraying earphones. Hours have lost their meaning; minutes are merely numbers. Past a certain point, there is no need to count the number of hours left for sleep.
Growing sense of disillusionment with school/the world/life (?) is on the steady rise. It may have a positive correlation with the amount of sleep I’m getting; given that a 2am day is now considered early. Then again, I’m not sure what I’m doing with my time that requires me to stay up so late. My mind is unfettered and wild; it jumps from word to page to screen to paper.
On a rather unrelated note, do bulimics stuff/treat themselves with/to expensive, pricey food so that there’s double the motivation not to throw up?