I tire.

Lately, most accurately always, I am tired. Tired of anything you could possibly imagine an average person doing during their lives. I've come to the conclusion that the only thing I enjoy fully without the dooming back-drop of fatigue is sleep. I may sound as if I am hopelessly depressed and this has become my only solution. But this is not the case. I am just tired.

I am tired of work. Of school. Of talking. Of breathing. Of thinking. It is pathetically morose and yet, I am too tired to mourn. Any excitement I may have for an event is overshadowed by fatigue. I am most happy cuddled in my bed, or couch, or anywhere where I may close my eyes and drift into oblivion.

I am perfectly happy and content. I am just tired. Tired tired tired. But I can never rest, for when I sleep something is always there to interrupt. Even if I attempt a mid-day nap, someone or something objects to my slumber. So here I sit, awaiting the point of this day, enviously listening to the dull breathing of someone blissfully dreaming. Has been for 12 hours now. But not me, when I desire sleep it is not allowed to be enjoyed. And so on.