insomnia

I can't sleep. I can't concentrate, either.

So, here I sit at the desk, reading someone else's journal and reveling in the relaxation of it. I'm almost envying a life I don't have, a life I've chosen not to have. Almost, because I do enjoy my life and I don't think it's fair or useful to want a life that I haven't chosen.

Anyhow, instead of working further on my own two papers-in-progress, I'm about to start sifting through the 100+ e-mails I have hogging up my inbox.

I'm still wondering how I'm going to make it through these next two weeks. Please just let me make it through.

(Aren't I not supposed to be writing in the middle of the dark because Despayre is always visiting me at this time? I thought so...oops.)