She was never very good at falling asleep, even as a child she'd read and watch T.V. in the dark until the sun began to rise. She still reads and watches the same shows she did back then, until the early hours of the morning as always.

This stagnant unbreakable routine felt so draining during the days, with drifting gazes at the ceiling and heavy eyelids; nightmares with her eyes open. Something had to be done, she was suffering the consequences of her malfunctioning brainwaves. Inexplainable energy floods her body when her head hits the pillow; false energy that gives nothing to her mentally, but physically leaves her yearning for rest while she starts another series over again.

The things she would do for just five minutes of real sleep, real deep REM sleep. She hated to even think about the prospect of bartering for sleep, she prided herself on being a realist; and you couldn't really barter for chemical balances in the brain, she knew this. Though that didn't stop her from trying, illogical as it felt, she would pray. When praying didn't work she begged, pleaded, and even threatened the gods whether or not they existed.

Acceptance always came last, she'd fight it and lose; each and every morning she found herself looking up at the sunrise. The normally beautiful hues of bright yellow and soft blue mocked her tired eyes; tears flooded her cheeks, she didn't want to see the light anymore. She wanted blissful darkness, emptiness even, and then she realized... she craved death.