I'm sleepy. Hell, yes. But can't get my hands off the keyboard. Fingers flying hither and thither. Yet what exactly is that i want to actually say? Most of my time is spent wondering, ' What is it that i'm actually thinking?' Stupid, stupid Alison. Should i have another mug of coffee? Teh temptation is strong. But then i need to sleep since i have to go to class tomorrow. Why can't I think of a concrete thought? I catch the tail of one, only to realise it was ice and has melted by the time i got to the other end of it. Worse it is a wax crayon and it's sweating in a room clausterphobic with other coloured crayons. They are all sweating and look what has happened- there's a murky pool on the floor. Which colour belongs to which crayon?