it really isn't very bad.
once you get the hang of it, staring at blank walls becomes less threatening; more therepeutic.
re-reading books becomes magical once again, like visiting an old friend.
i think i'll be fine.
i just haven't been alone for a long while.
okay; back to wall staring.
maybe this time i can get to sleep.
thought of the day; like sand filtering through my fingers, losing something/someone is sometimes inevitable.