It is late, and my eyes grow even heavier as my hands ache while they tediously punch plastic and faded keys just to amuse a quaint friend. I only hear the incessant noise of the keys hitting, pounding as it dances it's melodious droning ballet of symphonious tedium. The maliciously gigantic monitor seems to tower above a tiny insignifance that I sit. Streams of dazzling colors bling my weary eyes and I am still. My head is a weight on my poor spinal cord thrusting itself ever upward so that I do not fall forward to an untimely death-like sleep onto a much needed piece of hardware. It throbs to the pulsating beat of my heart like a living tumor in my brain. Blinking. Blinking a hellish orange. It is she. She'll taunt me forever onward. It's what I get for helping a friend.