Tossing and Turning at 5:48AM

My most legitimate excuse is the air. It is too dry here. No hope of resting comfortably through the night. But my eyes have wandered to the corner of the bed.

So I became afraid of my pillow on which you had lain your head so often before. Casting this aside to the foot and corner of my bed, I opted for the fibrous wooden planks my parents had provided me. These I valued and despised for having nothing to do with you, opposite my apartment pillow (our pillow). That said, I will probably sleep for the night on our pillow, for I loved and despised myself the same- for having been, and being no longer, so long at your bedside. I don't stop to think which I despised, and which I loved.

PS. No promises of return or revival is to be found here, as any promises will be made only to myself- the singular and occasional reader, and I have yet to cognitively embrace the notion of breaking a promise to myself.