I don't know which day it started, and I've been staying up late again. It's not the kind of tossing and turning all night, but simply unwanting to sleep for no reason. With a mobile phone in the dark, occasionally unplug the cable and roll to the other side of the bed, are the signs that I'm still awake.

I think I hate sleeping. Or maybe, I hate the arrival of a new day. I'm sick of the mechanical repetition day by day, especially when I don't have much expectation of life. I spend most of my time in daze every day, not doing anything to truly feels happy from the bottom of my heart. And in a room with other people, their diligence and efforts magnify my laziness and decadence even more.

Since the consequence of sleeping late is getting up late, I promise to go to bed earlier next week, knowing that it is likely to end up in failure.