the fan spins in a continuous cycle, carrying my tired eyes in its' wake. my body feels as though it is glued to the bed as my skin perspires from the heavy heat. i lift my hand slowly and follow the circular motion of the fan with my index finger. around. around. around. and back again. i debate rolling over and attempting some form of work but i am far too engrossed by my current boredom. the pit of my stomach twists and pulls heeding a warning, reminding me of the ever piling 'responsibilities.' i enjoy the dull nausea of it, thankful that i still feel a sense of indefinite obligation.. no matter how estranged from it i have become.