"Sometimes happiness feels like a chore."
A short story chronicling the relationships (and lack thereof) of Drew; in which nights and days are spent curled up in the tear-and-food-stained sheets, with and without the warmth of another living soul, because he has lived like this and he'll probably die like this -- whether he likes it or not.
(As if life ever bothered to ask).
Otherwise known as:
Sleep is for the weak, and love is for those asleep. So Andrew shouldn't wonder why he's virtually a self-induced insomniac who might just very well die of loneliness one day.