My head is spinning behind drenched, burning eye. It's hard to drown out the noise, so you cope, forcing your mind to focus on words and images worthy of a good escape. It is as though I have to push certain states of mind aside during the day, until I'm finally here, in front of this page, and I can let slip what I please. I'm still all out of words though, what I feel is a mild irritation at the day. It was productive, nonetheless. And my irritation is probably another face that deals with unreached expectations. Mainly, I feel I was ditched. And I'm just pissed off and require sleep and dreaming to get to where I want to be. Perhaps I need to do more in order to value the little details in my life.