Committed to Prioritizing Sleep

I had committed to prioritizing sleep, yet I failed. Today, I succumbed to exhaustion on the train, squandering hours that could have been spent collecting or, at the very least, obtaining proper rest at the Task's location. I had also vowed never to transact beyond my means. As the Captain taught me, I should have engaged in commerce at the local market with amounts that would allow for at least a hundred transactions before depleting my capital. Yesterday and today, however, I chose to risk excessive sums per transaction, given my limited resources.

The motivation behind these imprudent business decisions was a burning desire to return as swiftly as possible to the market in the woods—the cradle of my entrepreneurial education and the site of my greatest commercial triumphs, including the most recent one.

I crave funds for the collaborator's tables, and I want them with haste! Nowhere else do I feel more alive. Nowhere else do I sense my place in the universe with such clarity. Besides, I didn't collect enough even to travel to the market by the shore and savor that pleasant little night café, so I might as well have risked it all. I scarcely regret it. These past two nights, I felt that saving and slowly accumulating capital was a pursuit for old men like the Captain.

So here I am again, destitute, reposing in the park. At least the weather is impeccably pleasant. I now have the opportunity to meditate, a luxury I have not enjoyed in quite some time. Sometimes I think that is the secret to success.

I reminisce fondly about the days, years ago, when I needed only to collect ten or twelve dollars for traveling to the market and to have a chance at reaching the collaborator's tables, where I could potentially earn hundreds. Having to raise twenty dollars just months ago, when I could still secure a seat on the buses, was challenging enough. Now I need to amass at least sixty dollars to reach the market and have a modest sum for transactions. Since people rarely carry cash anymore, this task has become nearly insurmountable. My modus operandi, like all things, must evolve.

But what lies ahead? Traditional employment is out of the question. Even if I could tolerate it, I fear I would become as embittered and disagreeable as everyone I encounter. People can't naturally be that way; their livelihoods must have shaped them thus. Besides, no one has ever gotten rich working a job.