"Sleep is something I'm used to. Listening is something I can see. Eating is something that I can't do, and ignorance is always to controlling me. What am I?" I say this riddle to myself over and over again. Everyday I wake up and think, I think until I can't think anymore. I think until I give myself headaches; then I think some more. Prison isn't a nice place. Its not a fun place either. fun, nice, kind, are all wrong adjectives to describe it... if it were me describing this place I'd say, dirty, painful, blood-thirsty. I've been saying that riddle for the past couple weeks and I think I've figured it out.... Awareness.