Hit me Over the Head. Hard.

That time of year? Laid in bed all last night, seeing the walls, the sides of the bed, the white sheet I use for curtains, cast wan-bluish by what moonlight it caught, feeble sail. And I did not sleep. Acknowledging the inevitable morning, dredged myself up from the useless bedsheets to boil and strain myself a pot of coffee. Wrote my exam.

Came home. Laid down on sofa, pulled the heavy artificial-fiber blanket over myself and let it be stiflingly hot. Balled up a piece of blanket to be my pillow, and stared at the living-room wallpaper, which an obscure part of my brain said to be the color of yeast.
And-
Did.
Not.
Sleep.