To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? to die: to sleep:
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: Ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
— The Bard

Ahh, the ever applicable Shakespeare. I can’t fucking sleep yet again. Tylenol PM it is, and to hell with whether the alarm clock wakes me up or not.

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