text: It's 4am again and you still can't sleep. You can't get her out of your head. The car outside keeps backfiring and the couple across the hall keeps arguing and you can't get her out of your head. The air is still cold and the sky is still dark and your eyes are still open. Water is still dripping from the ceiling and the landlord keeps promising to fix it and still the water is dripping from the ceiling at 4 am while you remember her soft eyes and pretty smile because you still can't get her out of your head. The couple is fighting, but this time it's worse and a gunshot breaks the tension and soon the sirens are coming but you don't go to join the crowd watching because you can't get her out of your head. The air is still cold because it's morning, and she's still far away from here which is why you're still awake at 4 am, not the police activity or the shooting but because she's not with you, and you're crying, not because a woman was just murdered across the hall, not because she probably was being abused long before it happened, and not because the water dripping from the ceiling is eating through the floorboards, but because you can't get her out of your head. You don't know if you'll ever get to see her again, but you realize now, much too late, that you love her, and not even the shouts and protests of the abusive husband across the hall can change your mind that love is precious, even at 4 am when the water is dripping and the air is cold and the woman lies dying and you can’t get her out of your head. When you stand, the tears stand with you, dropping onto the floorboards and joining the water from the ceiling. The landlord, you see, keeps promising to fix it, but it’s been weeks and the water keeps coming, but he’s promised to fix it, but not at 4 am while you can’t sleep because you can’t get her out of your head. Your heartbreak is hiding among the water on the floorboards, and you think it's perfect because no one sees your sadness anyway, least of all the woman across the hall who lies dying, and it's really too bad because she was always so kind, and you hate yourself for not caring that she's dying but it's only because the water is still dripping and you're still crying and the air is so cold and you’re realizing at 4 am that every love story is a tragedy as your tears keep coming because you can't get her out of your head. And while the woman lies dying you think about the blood, because it too is drying even while people stand crying. And people will be crying because the woman lies dying, and your tears aren’t drying, “No use denying” he’s been sighing and replying over his wife’s body, lying and dying, yet here you are still trying even though you can’t get her out of your head.