.:Dreams and Swords:.

Tiredness

I'm tired. I've been tired for as long as I can remember. It is a fatigue that seeps deep into the bone, slowing the mind and draining each muscle in the body to the point where you don't want to move. The will to do things, things that are important and necessities, become an uphill battle. When it happens everyday, for years on end, you become accustomed to it. It is an old, mangy dog forever nipping at your heels.

Its not Chronic Fatigue. Its not Depression. Its simply me being an adult and being aware of that fact. I've had this feeling of tiredness since I was nine. I remember the moment it happened - a night filled of pain, tears and promise. One day, if I have to guts to do it, I'll write it out and spill the contents to the world.

This familiar ache I feel right now. My sphere is in chaos and deadlines pursue me like avid bill collectors. I need strength and energy, both of which are lacking at the moment. My muses are sleeping peacefully in their beds, slumbering in a place I have not been in ages. The coffee supply is depleted and the sugar will help me no longer. Will power is all that is left and even that is fleeting.

I want so much to write. To escape into the stories forever floating in my mind. Ironically, I will spend most of the night writing but not for pleasure. Instead, I tool away at my desk, slowly hacking at the term paper darkly looming on the horizon. But my eyes keep drifting towards the calendar. December is my salvation. It is the beginning and the end.

I keep telling my body, "One more month, you fool! You have fought much harder for much longer. Keep going. Keep moving!" But its harder this time. Twenty years breathing on this Earth yet I feel so old. The older I get, the harder it becomes. Its hard to think of the rest of my life from this point. To be honest, I never imagined I'd get this far.

So, as I get back to the grind of work, I think of December and plot lines, hot cocoa and a warm embrace still trapped miles away in the snow, closed text books and forgotten quilt squares, familial laughter and wishes for the New Year, inked stained fingers and dreams of a good night sleep that I have yet to achieve in this lifetime.

They are lovely thoughts to keep me going. Indeed, they are my fuel.

"The soul, secure in her existence, smiled at the drawn dagger and defies its point."

.:LdyPhoenix:.