It’s one of the worst feelings when, after trawling through pages of incomprehensible critical jargon and conjectures you finally find a piece that sums up your initial inclinations. At that point Exhaustion knocks on the door, kindly explaining to you how the process of Time works. Time, you see, runs on a negative scale moving down until it reaches the End. You, on the other hand, naively wish to be running on a positive scale, with more seconds, hours and days added to your finite deadline. The real dilemma, however, rests in the domain of Sleep. Sometimes she makes you more productive, removing the kinks in your muscles, massaging the headaches that cramp your brain, and filling you with invigorating inspiration. Other times, when her cycle is a bit off and you rouse from her slumber too early, she induces an all-encompassing lethargy. It slides slowly down your bones like adamantium. It weighs you down, blinds your eyes and creates an atmosphere of ennui.
But my bed is calling to me, with the seductive whisper of productivity in the morning. And i am too exhausted (remember, exhaustion is relative and subjective), to resist her temptations any longer.