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April 23, 2005

What I hate about being awake past my bedtime is how I feel completely alone.

What I hate about walking back to my house when it's late is how the world closes in, so that all that exist is in my immediate vicinity. I press on and on because I can't stop, and I can't call for a ride. I press on and on as if I am sleep walking.
And I feel utterly alone. I want to talk to someone. I might call someone. They're awake for a moment to tell me they can't talk.
They fade out, and I'm alone again.
There's a spotlight around me. The fog forms a buffer between me and humanity, and it's not fair.
The fear of walking alone. Walking home.

I rearranged my room and it feels comfortable, like something new, something away from here. But maybe it's something familiar. My bed is back where it used to be, years ago.
I need a new bed.