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Hihi, I’m ruining my sleep schedule as I write this passage. It’s a really unorthodox game of my mind racing and my body on the verge of consciousness—a limbo of reality and illusion. I slept the entire morning away, but not necessarily as a refreshing thing. Picture my sleep as a form of escapism because I am constantly in pain; This sense of fragility about myself is too much, it’s driving me into madness. Physically, this vessel of mine has carried me through much turmoil, I can feel every ounce of discomfort, like pins and needles—or a sensation one could only compare to being punctured in my legs. What I could give to simply deteriorate in blissful ignorance.