I am sitting here. Alone. Finally I would say. There are lots of things I need to catchup on with myself but I have no time. Or energy. Or will. Or even desire. Escaping and be alone have become my target. Everyday target. As if it becomes my only objective now. When I am 'finally' alone, I do not sleep, although I so need it. I just sit alone in this miserable place look at the mess around. How everything is crooked and twisted. Unorganised and misplaced. Unclean and uncared for. Empty fridge and stacked garbage. Lots of items here and there that are not taking any shapes nor promising any direction. Rich view but with poor interior and with what resides inside.