I sit, in a cocoon of blankets, wide awake experiencing the wee hours of the morning.
An African musician playing bongos in my head.
I sit. Staring at my wall adorned with the symbols, the words, the colors that describe me. the things that I love.
And I think, I think about absolutely nothing but everything at the exact same time.
Life.
Death.
Our purpose.
Family.
Friends.
You may ask or wonder how this is possible, to have a brain so filled with thoughts their spilling out of your ears but a brain so dreadfully dry and unoccupied at the same time.
I\'ve fallen ill at the hand of the 3AM. Disease