I know the sky is blue and the grass is green. That light of day and night comes from stars, near and far. I hear the chatter of people. But in the dead of night, as my eyes plead to close. I tell myself a story. A story of green skies and blue grass. Of starless skies contrasted by electric lamps. Some tales of loneliness with some emptiness on the side. And the characters, from the big to the small. Not a detail is left out. Their wants and desires become my own. Their dreams of reaching the top of the sky make me want to fly. The urgent desire to run and survive. The way I jerk awake with every doze. The countless days passed of compiling these stories in my brain, hoping and praying not to forget. The half-finished titles of legends. I wish sleep grasped that no dream it could give me is better than simply keeping my eyes open for a few more seconds.

The world turns grayer with every passing moment. The lush green grass has muted but only for me. The sky is barely blue, like a stormy day. I know I shouldn’t worry about those things. If anything gets damaged, I could just pay upfront. It wouldn’t even matter if they ran with the money. Why am I working again? I mean at this point I should just stay in bed. I use to want to have enough money just to stop working. Now that I have it I can’t help but be dragging my feet. A month has passed since I last spoke to any of my friends. The days lose their color like I lost that ambition. I feel that it used to be yellow but now it’s off-white. Even the most vivid of colors have been sucked into the gray spectrum. I shouldn’t just sit here and ramble to myself, but there’s nothing to do. I mean I could walk down to the ocean or go out on my boat. That would just ruin the memories of deep blues, and brilliant sunsets. I think I’m going to lie down. Yeah, that sounds nice, just close my eyes and live in my memories. I hope they don’t lose their greens and reds. If they do, I don’t know what I’ll do.