Pat ended up alone in his room unable to fall asleep. There was nobody he could call or text. Not because it was was three in the morning, but because he never had anyone. He had been raised by a single mother. She died the summer between high school and college. So he had arrived on campus with a heartbreak. To mask the pain he drank a lot and acted eccentric. None of his friends attributed this to the fact that there may be some tragedy underlying it all. They all just thought Pat was a fun guy. And to them he was a fun time.

He got addicted to the fun times. He hated going back to his room and being alone again. He would sometimes drink alone in his room but had stopped somewhere along the way when he decided that it was making him stay up too late and unable to wake up for things in the morning.

Now he would either stand in the middle of the room, his head being too close to the ceiling fan. Stand there and hope that the weight of sleepiness would hit him. Or he would kick off his shoes, take off his socks and lay in bed, alternating between staring at the ceiling and closing his eyes.