One sleepless night...

as usual, before i sleep, i will read, hoping that i would fall asleep as i read. alas... tonight... that didn't seem to work, even though i'm quite tired. but while reading, i came across this:

His only thought was that there was nothing left, nothing to live for, nothing to wait for, nothing to remember. The stars were cold and he couldn't leap to grasp them, to pass fist over fist alon their lofty network of knobs, arrive someplace new, and, if not safe, at least less heinous. They merely mocked, as stars were created to do... His tears came hot and desperate, the only warmth in the universe.

something about that paragraph resonates with me.