A vice squeezes my mind, a result of too much stress and not enough sleep. And as the screws turn, the choice between sleep and waking feels more like life and death. Writing pains me; my open eyes against the brighness of the screen are outmatched. Would that I could pause the day and become well before waking. I apologize to myself and to the world but it's becoming more apparent that I'm unuseable this morning.
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