Just a ramble. Enjoy.
A journey which begins at the dismal hour of one forty two in the morning, the time which insomniacs break free of their medicinal constraints and disregard what is read on the bottle - another hour won't hurt. A time at which you would probably find no more than ten friends on Facebook because the rest have regular sleeping patterns. Here, I sat and I wrote, begging inspiration to wash over. I inspected the lines underneath my eyes, which sagged morbidly. I'm fine, I promise myself. The empty bottom greeted me as I lifted the mug for one last drop, but alas, it was gone. Time for another tea run and only twenty minutes had passed.
Did that make me an addict? Hope not, but tea rehab would have been a delightfully warm room of old women and cute artsy chicks. Sounds like my sort of environment.
I'm going to edit this tomorrow because oh my goodness it's 2:12am and my brain isn't connecting all its receptors at the moment. I am a large root vegetable. See you in the morning.
~Holly
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