It's two 'o seven in the morning and I can't bring myself to go to bed.

Just finished my infuriating homework an hour ago, but I can't bring myself to go to bed.

I'd rather stay up writing a story.

Or reading a story.

I was actually just reading my old stories.

I love them more than I thought I did.

They make me happy, by the way.

But no, I can't sleep.

Oh shit.

The parents just caught me staying up and two o' seven in the morning.

And they don't care that I just can't bring myself to bed.

Good night!

Oh. Wait.

They're too tired to keep harping on me.

That means I can stay up.

Or something like that.

And I have school tomorrow.

But does that matter much to me?

...

No. Not really.