As I stare above me into the abyss of my dark ceiling, not a noise floating about my sleeping abode, I question why I lay awake at this hour when not another soul struggles with a basic human function; I wonder, am I even human? What is a human without flaws, of course, but one’s flaws are not meant to be their lack of ability of something they must do to survive. No one lacks the ability to eat or drink when given food and water, so why do I stay awake when given shelter and a bed? I’ve done everything I can, I whisper to myself and to the ceiling. Oh, ceiling. Many nights I stare at you and I envision the one I love. He says he’s broken, I think not. I say I am broken, he says not. How I love this man and how I wish he loved me.
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