in some trouble.

the work place, the modern day straitjacket, dare we breath out? The killer of individualism and brave ideas. Each night grows longer for fear what another day may do or take from my character. I once was a whole person with a shadow, now I am but the shadow. With every night the fight to rest and turn off grows, till all I do is toss and turn till the bed feels not unlike the bare wood of a coffin. while others dream of adventure, I dream of sleeping at ease, if only those dreams would come true. And not even her smile could ease this weight of non existed years i feel.