Inability to sleep.

I know I should allow the body to sleep, at least. I am certain there are a myriad of ways to calm myself to the point that the body would be able to recieve the proper rest. And yet, after wandering aimlessly for the past hour, I know it is futile.

I awoke suddenly to the sound of a far-away siren. I swore I saw the red beacon; I was absolutely certain. For a moment I froze, and I slowly became aware of my surroundings. In the darkness I could scarcely make out anything, and in a moment I turned up all the lights. It was an effort to calm myself, I suppose, to reassure myself that it is all right, now. Nai bansè sirnir srelin.

Something is not right, however, at all. I knew that sooner or later this would come to light, and it is no secret my time in the Reformatory. However I am still not comfortable with the idea of speaking of it, and I am certainly not wanting to deal with it yet. Not in the slightest. This is one of the many things I wish to have forgotten, and had I the power, I would. I spent some time early this morning, pondering the Deadbox and knowing that the Polyclef was mine to use as I please. I would very much like to bury these things that invade my mind now.