Am I going insane or just walking around half-asleep again? I hear clowns or something more sinister laughing from the closet. I throw my cat-pillow but she is heavier than I remember so she lands close enough to encircle my head again. I see a familiar number on the loud buzzing face, I can’t ignore it. It drives me crazy. Do I wear my hair in stranger ways in stranger places on my bobbling-head? A caricature, less mature than I am. I turn over in the morning to avoid the sun pouring its citrus sourness through my stinging eye lids that flutter open like warm butterflies. I drift out of bed and creak down the hall like an old woman. I take out a frying pan and proceed to eat my brain on drugs. I do not answer questions the first time they are asked before 9am. My finance catches up to my quiet footsteps. His face begins to buzz behind me as I brush my teeth.