what the aftermath of a night of insomnia looks like...

this is such a particular time in my life. strange and a little lonely and such that when sleep finally pulls me under around 4:30 the sheets are wrinkled and i'm on my side of the bed, an open jar of peanut butter on the other. it won't always be like this, and i'm sure i'll miss those kinds of nights when they've morphed and gone altogether.