Where do the nights of sleep go when they do not come to me?

It’s five past four.

In the morning.

My head.

I had no idea I was an insomniac. Why now?

I’ve slept through most of the last few years, so why now? 

That’ll be my guilty conscience.

Or the lettuce.

We’re a litigation nation.

This is a blame culture.

I blame you. Yes, you.

Don’t look at me like that.

I love it when you look at me like that.