writing

28

Twenty eight hours, with just an hour of real rest. No, this isn’t right.

Bed, now.

Swinging wide, stumbling through wal-world to pick up some essentials.

Never felt this tired. So exhausted , I can’t sleep.

Safely in a room, freezing cold.

Taking a little time to unwind.

Hoping slumber finds me soon.

And maybe a few sweet dreams too.

Just to start again early tomorrow.

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