<shattered white> The fluorescent lights of the bus station kept me up, but sleeping on a bench is not always ideal anyway. In my stalemate with my self-diagnosed insomnia, thoughts are translucent and my comprehension of the past, and likewise the future, has been at the all time low. I don't remember how I got to this bus station. I don't know where I am going to go next. Aimless is a word that comes to mind. Life consists only of my responses to external stimuli. I leave no footprint on this earth, yet I am an overtrodden path. Now, struggle dominates. A struggle to understand where I am, who I am, and what I could be. First, I need to understand my location. The bus station isn't too big, and only one apathetic employee is working at the booth. Looking outside the window, it is not exactly night. More of a prelude to a quiet morning. The stars are out against an awakening dark blue as the sun slo...