What was the point of even trying to go about her life normally when there was nothing that made any sense? She knew she was feeling sorry for herself, succumbing to a depressive state that did her more harm than good. Still, she didn't stir from her bed. Sleep was an escape that she could afford. It took little effort and was completely free. And, if she was lucky, she might even be able to eke out a better existence inside her dream world. Nothing that she did mattered to anyone else alive. Better that she spend what time she had unconscious.