IRC-Galleria

Bliss, that it would be. To sleep again. His eyes burned, the night died and the ambient screech of the metropolis awakened into yet another day. The only thing he really wanted was to lay down anywhere and let the world rest. Feel the pleasurable transition from this world and back. He couldn't figure out the enjoyment, though. There's nothing more rewarding than a two-day slumber, but what one remembers is less vivid, and thrilling, than repeatedly waking up, and falling back into, moments of light snooze. In the moment he felt like the best choice would be to be able to sleep for years, but it scared him. He could experience more in five minutes than he could in months, when it was drawn into comparison. Anxiety axed the moment of peace in the darkly breaking morning. He no longer wanted to sleep forever, and what his body naturally needed seemed more like a burden and biological conspiracy than an chance for mental pacification.