Some Nights

Day 1220.

Too tired to be productive. I went to bed at 10.

Not spent enough to find sleep, I rise again at 12.

It’s midnight and I am back in the living room again.

You think this bit is over - this up all night shit, because some nights you don’t do it. But it isn’t.

The opening entry to this journal, the day we heard Luke was dead, swirls around my brain.

So here I am, again.