He hadn't slept in three days. He looked and felt like death. The dark circles under his eyes were now almost permanent features on his face. His insomnia was getting worse. He was in a perpetual state of limbo between being awake and asleep. The light from his monitor was practically burning his eyes in his fluorescent prison.

The days have been melding together again and he felt like nothing but a mindless drone. He couldn't tell you if it was Monday or Wednesday at this point. His goal now is to get through the week, working a job he hates only to return to his mediocre condo.

"I am Jack's wasted life," he thinks to himself as he types away in his cubicle, wasting away and hoping no one comes over to bother him.