1. Metaphorical representations of objects I see (hell, I even think in metaphors)
2. Shakespeare
3. 1984 (and when I’ll actually bother to read past chapter 1)
4. Sex The love of my life 
5. Song lyrics from John Vesely or Linkin Park
6. The number 42
7. Fountain pens and dip pens, and “Do my hands have ink on them?” 

The cold midnight breeze is still knocking on my window. Somehow the cold penetrates the concrete walls of my room and would eventually go straight through my blanket. The moonlight shines on the wall, showing a faint 1:45 on the clock. Too early to get up. Yet, somehow I can’t go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking. I was thinking, and I still am, of many different things. I try to visualize comforting fantasies, but they don’t seem to help me sleep much. Still… I have to go to sleep eventually. But it’s as if my body wants to stay awake, even if it knows that it’ll lack the energy to survive through the early morning hours of my everyday life. I just can’t go to sleep. Who knows, maybe I won’t.