Friday January 23 2009 The Mind at 4am [ ] [ mood | hot ] Up late, each pore of mine felt like it was gathering a tiny pool of sweat, but never enough to wipe away. I didn't want to open the windows because I'd known from a very young age what lights on inside and an open window equaled... especially being top of the menu to every flea I'd ever met. That being said, the room had been shrinking for the last half hour and I needed to let out some of the pressure. It was baking me alive. The laptop on my crossed legs wasn't helping either - I'd found it legitimate to consider the difference between bold underline and underline bold. Everything around me seemed just a little bit taboo. Reaching out to touch something as simple as a coffee mug on my desk, in the hot, intoxicating small hours seemed to hold a hidden consequence that I couldn't know until I tried.

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