The sky is a bright orange. There's a small streak of white cloud reaching toward the west. I'm sitting here, looking out over the water, and aimlessly wandering through my mind trying to make sense of the the thoughts I've been having over the last few nights. I figure it must be about 6 a.m, although I don't really care. Time doesn't mean much when you haven't slept in three days. Eventually it all starts to run together. Off in the distance, I can see a storm moving in. I can feel the change in the weather in my bones. It's been a long time since I've felt like this. Unsure of whether to make peace between these opposing forces in my mind, or to just give myself completely over to one side or the other, regardless of the consequences. A light rain is beginning to fall, temporarily distracting me from my incessant self-analysis. I should probably start looking for some shelter, on the other hand, I've never been particularly good at doing what I probably should, so I guess I'll just stay here. It's at times like this, when you find yourself thrown out of your usual, comfortable routine, that make you realize how important that routine has become to you. How you begin to rely on it to maintain your sanity, even sometimes your very life itself. How it almost becomes like a drug, and a very addictive one at that.