The quiet breeze is making it's way through the room. After a long day of nearly unbearable heat it is more welcome than usual and yet it fails to help me sleep. I'm tired and uncomfortable. This living alone is wearisome. And I can't tell anyone because that makes it appear as if I'm complaining. I am not. I'm just stating a fact in the same way as saying it was hot today is stating a fact. The problem is, I feel myself turning more and more inward as the days go by due to this silence. And that's just the way it is. Inward isn't such a bad thing, it's just my second preference when weighed along side outward. There will be time in the future, I suppose, that I may switch my preferences.
As for now, I'll say nothing so that the breeze and I have something in common.