We're all lonely for something we don't know we're lonely for. How else to explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like missing somebody… - David Foster Wallace

...the sun would leave my sky if I couldn't assume you'd simply come and tell me you were sad.

Then Thursday Coyle had his left wrist tied to his right ankle and was still beating this new kid Stockhausen until Schtitt sent Tex Watson down to tell him to knock it off.

It’s one of those unpleasant opioid feverish half-sleep states, more a fugue-state than a sleep-state, less a floating than like being cast adrift on rough seas, tossed mightily in and out of this half-sleep where your mind’s
still working and you can ask yourself whether you’re asleep even as you dream. And any dreams you do have seem ragged at the edges, gnawed on, incomplete.