You lay in bed, unable to sleep due to anxiety. Groaning, you turn to the half-broken but still somewhat working alarm clock on your beside to check the time. God, it's four in the morning. You sigh and sit up, looking around your room. Your shitty second hand clothes piled up just in front of your wardrobe, the questionable stain in your carpet that you can't get out, the almost gross beige walls and the window with ominous blue glowing eyes that blink one after the other. What. The. Fuck.