The clock ticks over to 4:33; I've stayed up a little too late again. I rub my eyes and close the half finished job application open on my phone. That, and the twenty other random tabs. Pictures, queries and porn. Each one marks minutes of another sleepless night. Even after clearing the cache, the thoughts don't disappear. The insistence that sleep is unnecessary leads me to open Facebook for the hundredth time that past day. Not much has changed, as expected. The same few posts with a couple of extra comments. Companies upload their scheduled ads. No one has touched that creative piece I posted. Not mine at least. The other one I shared got rave reviews. I hope the artist is happy. I hope they're proud. I'm not bitter. Okay, I'm bitter. But I'm honest. I am proud of them. Like I'm proud of my friends. I scroll back through one more time and play out their posts vicariously. Job interviews, degrees, houses, achievements, fame, glory, happiness, lov...