The trip that will be

I haven't slept for three nights straight. Everything seems a little blurry, I'm walking about in a daze. Excitement's slowly waning, it's being eclipsed by growing fatigue. Why must I begin every voyage comme ça? In my excitement, I go tell everyone. I tell Bruno who doesn't listen, the lady who works at Buffalo who smiles politely, then turns and walks away. I also tell my friend repeatedly till he swears not to take any more of my calls. I tell myself, over and over again, till insomnia takes over. Month-long preparations have led to this... at last, fruition. I set sail tomorrow!