"Sometimes happiness feels like a chore." A short story chronicling the relationships (and lack thereof) of Drew; in which nights and days are spent curled up in the tear-and-food-stained sheets, with and without the warmth of another living soul, because he has lived like this and he'll probably die like this -- whether he likes it or not. (As if life ever bothered to ask). Otherwise known as: Sleep is for the weak, and love is for those asleep. So Andrew shouldn't wonder why he's virtually a self-induced insomniac who might just very well die of loneliness one day.

Mike disappeared on a clear day. I remember that, at least, though not much else. I was five years old. "Try," the policemen said to me. "Try harder. Remember."

❝i've delicately chosen letters to form words and words to form sentences, each sentence a colorful paint stroke on the canvas of my mind.❞ [ #1 in poetry on 27/08/16 ]

a collection of random thoughts

Sometimes all you really need is a place to call home. * * * NOTE AS OF 04/2026: This is the old version of the story from 2012. It is currently being reprised, which you can also find under my profile here in wattpad as "5:48 [reprised]"