I've been sitting here lately and wondering whether or not the sun will fail to rise one day. There's no point really, just a general musing, but sometimes I can't help but think how insignificant I am in this world. There are several small bottles sitting harmlessly in the cabinet, each designed to help bring a small measure of peace to my world through sleep, and the greatest thing about sleep is the escape from reality. With dreams come aspirations, hopes, and ambition; funny, but the only way I see myself in a positive light is through closed eyes. All of that said, I wonder, as I often do, the beauty of eternal sleep. Never thinking, never feeling, just resting. Never waking up to see the sun's light and the world's contempt, bearing the pressures and expectations of unattainable perfection, or enduring the heartache of failure. What kind of life can you have when you spend all of your time trying to escape from it? I have nothing to offer the world, and I'm pretty sure if I did, it might not want it. So as Shakespeare once said, "To be or not to be? That is the question..."