Oh lord, please guide this cinderblock.

I was unable to sleep yesterday. I got back at around 6 in the evening, which is most likely the earliest I've returned to my hole in months. By 9pm, I was all set: Washed, dried, and ready for bed.

But I couldn't sleep.

It wasn't even the twisty-turny kind. It's the kind where you sit up (or lie down, when you get bored, just to spice things up) in bed, staring into space, thinking about the day. And a lot happened in my day. It's one thing to be introspective; to review the contents of a day filled with decisions and revelations. It is another thing however, to be beset by yourself. Last night, I raked myself over. Too hard. I suppose it occurs in everyone that we all get a little too hard on ourselves, and all though we know it isn't the right thing to do, we do it anyway. Self-loathing will do that to you.

I couldn't help but blame myself for the things that were happening to me. I have a sinking suspicion that if I do not snap out of this soon, I'll be falling into a state I remember very well.

But as with all things, solace comes when you least expect it. By morning I gained a small victory. I figured out what to do for my birthday. A lot of people have been asking me about what my plans were for this year, and I'm glad to say I found something that strikes a happy balance with what people want, and the kind of guy I am this week, but that's for another post (that'll come in about, 10 minutes from this one). We need to make room for....

Suddenly, Fiction:

He cocked his head back, allowing his breath to escape into the cold, rainy night. A solitary pool of light shone down on us - the only working street lamp in the near-ankle flooded street. Around us, the world continued to cry, and it's tears curtained us, reflecting the light off so many raindrops, it was almost beautiful.

We were waiting for a ride. It didn't even occur to us to cover up under all this rain. It was a good feeling.

'I know how much potential I have,' He broke, 'It's the same with you. We're alike that way. We've coasted through life, naturally adept at what it is we do. For the most part, we didn't even realize it. And because we didn't realize it, now we're insecure of it. We both look around and find other people, seemingly better.'

He turned to me, and I couldn't match his gaze. "What do you mean, 'better'," I asked.

'They have what people expected of us,' He continued, 'you've felt it, haven't you? Things you were good at before and suddenly you find that you don't even deserve half of what you've received. People think us to be strong, but you and I know we're still fragile. We were given something we didn't know we want, and now we're spending time trying to understand if we actually miss it, and if we're losing our touch. Now we're just trying to put in the work, like we're trying to please some imaginary bar. What's talent without hard work right? I can't speak for you. But for me, the secret is: I know I'm strong. But sometimes, I don't want this strength anymore. It isolates. It makes me lonely. Sometimes, I want to be weaker, filled with less...'

He sighed that time, but I was curious to find out more.

'Less what?'

'Less, whatever this is.'

I tried to read his face. Try to catch any sort of tell. An expression, a twitch. A twinkle in the eye. Anything that can let me know what it is he truly felt. I could not discern if he felt self-pity, or remorse. Looking back, I suppose I desperately wanted to find an emotion. Any emotion. I was afraid that he felt nothing as he said it. There's nothing worse than a candle burnt-out when it begins to rain.

'Are you afraid of mediocrity?' I asked him.

'No, I'm not,' he replied.

'What is it then? Tell me.' As I said these words, I realized that I was steadily becoming angrier. A fire inside me knew that his was faltering, and that infuriated me.

'People are always so fascinated by the strength of lone wolves. Lone wolves are bigger than most pack members, and they take down much harder prey all by themselves. They have to be, because they don't belong. On their own, they aren't much more successful than everyone else. They just do what they have to to get by. I don't want to be like that. I don't want to just do what I have to to get by. People around us, they expect that we can handle anything and everything that comes our way. And because of that, they ignore the simple warning signs. I want to be weaker, for lack of a better term, so that someone else can come take care of me. And if that's not possible, at least give me someone as strong as I am.'

'So you'd give up on your dreams, on everything you could have, because you're alone? That's pathetic.'

'I never said I was giving up on my dreams. I meant that it's a lonely road getting to them. People naturally assume we'd get there, and because of that they won't even bother traveling with us anymore.'

The light above us flickered, and with it I missed the most important tell of them all. I looked at him again, trying to see if I can catch a glimpse of it, but the rain had already washed it away.