Sleep.

Sometimes she doesn't want to sleep. She wants to be in the night forever. Still forever. She does not wants the day to rise. She does not wants to face the world. Everyday is a new day, but the night? No. It is for every new thought. And she lives in thoughts. Her head held high. High above the clouds of her dreams. She only ever wants to see those. Not the reality. Never the reality. Because reality is where people are. And she, the solitary soul, could never be alive in her folks. She felt alive in her world. She created it and yet it was a surprise. Whereas the reality was ever so predictable. She was not made to live there. She was the one who dreamed too much. She was the one who desired so much. So, so much. And her greatest desire was to get lost in her fantasies and never return. Her greatest desire was to breathe in her thoughts. Her greatest desire was to roam her dreams and then eventually burn along with them.