DADDY MAKES ME HIS MIDNIGHT SNACK

The fridge has never looked so empty in my life.

So many dang condiments, but no actual food. I can make a slurry of ketchup, mustard, and mayo, but rather than quell my rumbling stomach and put me to sleep, I'd probably vomit and stare dead-eyed into space.

Sorry, it's just insomnia makes me itchy and irritated.

For the past few days—maybe a week actually—I've been stuck in a rut of trying to go to sleep but getting so fidgety that I get up and walk the house for hours, finally draining myself around three or four in the morning. It's something that's been...