Oh my god, this brain needs to shut down. I am in dire need of some shut eye but nope!...forcing myself awake those last few minutes to finish watching the Running Men do their funny running things really did it for me! Now it's one sleepless night in Melbourne and unfortunately there isn't anything remotely romantic to at least make it worthwhile (har, har).

So..now, a story.

(Based on a true story)

Something happened to a particular window. This window...it's been so abused by blistering winds, hurt by harsh sunlight, worn down by vicious winter snow...yet it's always kept itself slammed bravely open amidst and against the cruel, cruel elements. However, slowly and surely, as would any other window, this particular window started losing its shape; its colour started waning. It's lost its vigour -- it's lost the fight. It started closing in...closing in...closing in...until one day it vowed never to open again. 

Now! After months of solitude, closed off from the world, lo and behold, a warm and fuzzy feeling returns to this particular window! O, the man of the house has returned! His giant chopsticks for fingers press its wooden panes open, once again uniting it with the cruel, cruel elements that have treated it so harshly. The warm and fuzzy feeling does not go away. The man's hands bring forth such nostalgia, such love that the window feels it can conquer anything and everything thrown at it. Bring it on, wind, sun, and snow! Nothing can stop it now! 

Alas, the brevity of it all is heartbreaking. The tender loving care from those giant chopsticks for fingers never lasted. The man of the house has returned and has left, once again. What was this poor window to do? Time and time again, it's left to brave the harshness of reality all on its own. "ALL BY MYSELFFFFF, DON'T WANNA BEEEE", it sings in mute. No vocal cords to voice its discontent. No eyes, no tear glands to shed pearls of sadness. This window started closing in...closing in...closing in...until one day it vowed never to open. Ever again.