A narration on my frightful night.

Last night, or should I say early morning, I felt the sudden desperate need of drinking coffee to awaken my senses that have gone into sweet slumber.

Dazed, I smartly poured the sachet of the coffee mix into my cup,

then realising I don't have hot water to make coffee with.

Now, you might think, "haha, then go and make them!"

In case you haven't noticed your friend here isn't a very intelligent one, I have no idea how to boil water.

Instead of just pouring the powder into my mouth and let it be done with, I have decided to drink coffee cold, with cold water.

I must say, the prospect of being able to make coffee was exciting,

and until there, not so exciting anymore.

Days were meant to start, and end.

Birth is prerequisite for the imminent death.

It was difficult looking at you.

The cycle of life, and its inevitability, I disdain.

I cry at the end of day.

The falling of all good things.

Bells cease to ring.