Fighting Tiredness

Tiredness pursues me relentlessly. Sleep has become my sweetest escape.

Alas, I’m trying to save my life here.

So, I got up. Took a shower.

Showers are more work than they should be. Because I’m fat and inflexible. My arms aren’t long enough to reach certain places precisely. In and out of the shower, sometimes I too easily stretch and pull muscles.

Out of the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror. Big, poofy, unorderly beard. The hair on top of my head knows no style. Just a mess of follicles.

I take no pride in my appearance, nor do I give it much thought. But when I do think about it, I don’t much like my thoughts.


Today is a different kind of day, because tonight I am reconnecting with an old friend who I’ve had a falling out with throughout my year of depression, solitude, and being in denial about a drug problem.

Now that the denial has dissipated, and I can look back and see the way that my drug use has affected other people, this opens up a path, potentially back towards those affected.

This is no small revelation, because one of the aspects of my life that’s been sucking the vitality out of me is my lack of a social livelihood.

I’ve been on the fringe. Out here, it feels like nobody cares. Out here, it feels like nobody would be so detrimentally affected, even if I were to stop breathing.

It’s a lie, right? I hope so. I hope that people care more than they show.

But nobody can show me anything when I keep to myself.

So, I am to step out into the world, and pay attention.

And hopefully start to build a life with less damn sleep in it.

Originally published at Andrew L. Hicks.