The only thing worse than crying yourself to sleep is crying and not falling asleep. This is night #2. Last night involved two hours of sleep just around dawn, preceded by hours during which melancholy song lyrics ran through my head.
I can’t do the talk, like the talk on TV
And I can’t do a love song, like the way it’s meant to be
I can’t do everything, but I’ll do anything for you
I can’t do anything, except be in love with you
And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be…