I know, you're in the middle of something great, completely satisfied with the moment as is, and Sleep finds you. She yanks you away "gently" but with enough force to have you instantly. There's a pen in your hand and a notebook on your lap, ideas flowing easily, smoothly, continuously and then you have the best dreams you've ever had. Believe me, I know what that's like, but you getting sleep is so much more important than finishing your page right now and actually, I'm bringing this up because if I ever manage to miss a day here I want you to know it's only because Sleep won and I had ink on my hands and legs when I woke up. It's only because my notebook ended up in my arms like a baby or a stuffed animal and I woke up to bent pages and a wrinkling sound of sorts. Don't worry, I'll come back every time; well, until you stop visiting and I give myself to Death. But still don't worry, you'll be gone long before I am.
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