I can’t sleep. It’s 2 am. I am going through all the possibilities to fix the lawn that surrounds my apartment complex. Well, at least it would be lawn – currently it’s a weed bed.

Flayla is fast asleep and snoring. I toss and turn – lightly, so as not to wake her.

I’m tired – and I’m angry. I feel so helpless to solve this problem. I actually got into a huge fight with my parents about it – frustrated with what I thought was their unhelpfulness. Now I’m staring out the window in the middle of the night really mad about the fact I can’t do anything about the lawn. Who am I?

What’s gotten into me?

The longer I stay up, the darker my thoughts become.