I spent many, many nights staring into the darkness and remembering things I do not recall. In those sleepless periods, where I was to wake, I wrote many strange and abstract things that only served as meditations and reflections on my person. They were often incoherent, train of thought, but better than the alternative of drifting off to sleep and facing severe reprimand for it. With the added benefit of piecing together musings that come when the mind is left to itself. In many ways I became so accustomed to this that I now near envy that period of seeming eternity as it allowed going to the places I never imagined. It opened the doors to confrontations with the self and soul.