Twas midnight before I could believe it, or was it 12 a.m.? I could not tell. Clock-round it was dark in this room at which I type, for I do not have windows nor any other entrance that light could use to get inside from the out. I remember the last sound I heard before I typed the last sentence, it used to re-occur every five seconds for the past 3 months, but now, it seemed to have stopped...or have I just gotten used to it? I pause from typing for a moment to listen in closely and to observe if it was still there in the background of my brain...after that moment was gone, and I realized that it actually had stopped, I began to type this sentence. I then wonder if that sound would come back again. I kind-of miss it in a way. I feel that if it never came back to me, I wouldn't know how I could live anymore. Then, this is the moment that I'm just typing a story that's not even true, it isn't midnight yet, it won't be for another 12 minutes from this point in time. Anyways, I'm going to make another boredness story on something else now, layte!