Nil illegitimi carborundum

Rude awakening: 2:35 AM.
Internet connectivity status: Nonexistent.
Days to departure: 47.

There can be no doubt about it: instead of feeling younger for being constantly surrounded by all this youth, I have aged disproportionately to the time I have spent here. There is no shortage of people who are keen to tell me how terrible I look on a daily basis. When I dare glance into the mirror, even I notice the changes that would under normal circumstances be imperceptible. My colour is grayer, my skin saggier, my wrinkles deeper. Injuries that once took days to heal now take months. I wish this were the setup for a joke; there isn't one. I wish I could say this is an exaggeration. It's not.

This whole experience has taken a dramatic toll on my health. Most, if not all of this, I ascribe to lack of sleep. Sleep is how our bodies and minds restore themselves; and I have been chronically deprived of it since my arrival here. Looking back, I doubt that I have slept more than one full, 7- or 8-hour night -- without the benefit of artificial aid, of course -- per week. This is not a particularly healthy ratio. How is a body supposed to repair itself without the thing it most desperately requires, next to food and oxygen?

Fortunately, despite their best efforts (stealing food, smoking cigarettes and lighting the halls on fire) the bastards have not yet managed to deprive me of those necessities.