I am spending the weekend at my parents house. Last night I couldn't sleep, a resurgence of my (thankfully) dormant sleep condition. Tonight I am miles from sleep and I don't think it is a coincidence. I am in my old bedroom, although there is nothing here that was mine, except a mirror on the wall. This is now the guest room, and I am its guest.
How many nights have I spent staring at these walls in the pain of insomnia? How many hours have I spent thinking and rethinking? Going over the same old evidence looking for fresh clues or some new lead, all with the ridiculous belief that my thoughts were a train track and if I could just get to the end I could sleep. How wrong I was.
How tired I am of thinking the same old things, of wasting the hours away with no record of the ideas that these sleepless nights bring.
So here begins my record.
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