Passive.
I close my eyes and I feel the ache that forms almost immediately behind the lids. I am tired. My fingers move restlessly to type this before I try again, stupidly, to sleep. I may as well try to Windex my eyes to turn them blue.
I am prowling, yes, but without the energy to engage in anything worthwhile. I am passive, in a daze almost-a self-induced state of uncaring. While my corrosive nature still comes through the haze quite easily, I take no real interest in the pain my words inflict. I am rather like a well-fed predator – not eager to engage, but still quite capable of doing harm.
Some of this comes from my problem, that I spoke of earlier, which I addressed and carried out rather efficiently, but the rest comes from the lack of sleep I have experienced in the last 2 weeks.
I am not drinking coffee. I miss the smell of coffee in my house.