I am not an insomniac because I desire to be a night owl, or to gaze endlessly at the mysterious dark night, I am not an insomniac because I search for shooting stars to wish on, or to feel the chilly autumn breeze give me goose bumps, or avoid the eerie world of surrealistic tragic and bloody night terrors. The only reason I am an insomniac is because I fear the moment my head hits the pillow, my sweet lullaby would be the crystal drops that fall down my cheeks swiftly and silently, spewing liquid words of my heart's distraught.
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