Last night I was kept awake by the sounds of raging sex coming from the room next door to me. All that separated me from this said sex was a two foot concrete wall and possibly some posters. The squeaking and moaning, to be blunt, kept me up for about thirty five minutes until I finally heard the boy sneak back out through the window at around 2:20. Then I experienced one of those awfully irritating nights when something in your body prevents you from finding a comfortable position. I twisted and turned miserably for an hour or so, more frustrated with each passing second. Then to add to my already painful sleep experience, Torrie, who is "suffering a cold," started snoring. My iPod was dead so I was forced to listen to her wheezing until the irritation finally overcame me and I forcefully threw a pillow at her face. In my mind I was expecting more of a reaction then a simple roll to another position and the continuation of snoring after five minutes passed. On a positive note, my 9:00 class was canceled, and we have a replacement "online class" which we need to post arguments throughout the day. Shouldn't be hard to do considering I'm the only person with a functioning brain in my Humanities class.

In my sleeplessness, I came to realize how unsatisfied I still am with my current situation. Admittedly I know that it has gotten much better in the past couple of months, but one thing I hate is how easily I fall into states of gloom. Either I am only somewhat content, accepting my circumstances for what they are while having hope for impending changes - or I am just purely disappointed and only look forward to one or two semi-exiting things that in my before-life would have been something I did nonchalantly. I also know that with winter forthcoming days will be drearier and my ability to stay content will fade with along with the sunlight and warmth that once cradled us.

There are currently a handful of things that make me purely happy in my life. I guess we all need to find more if we're ever going to survive this.