It’s a strange thing. I think a lot.. I talk a lot around the right people, and yet.. I can’t think of what to write. Everything I write comes out phony and all I can think of is Holden Caufield laughing at me.. So I sit and re-write and re-write, knowing it won’t make a bit of difference. It’s about 1:30 in the morning and I can’t sleep.. It’s been a while but still, I had all but thought I could throw away the melatonin.. And then I realize it’s getting later and later and I just stare at the ceiling. So I sit and think. But usually my thoughts float around, never stopping until i have no idea how I got there.. But do I ever know how I get anywhere? Do we ever? That’s enough for today. I think I can sleep now…. Goodnight.