Being tired is a thing that happens sometimes and you try to get used to it but you can’t always and so that’s the way life goes. However, it could be argued that it is better to not get used to being tired and instead try to not be tired by getting enough rest.

Now my question is: How does one go about getting enough rest? Where do they find this? Is it hiding under a rock? Under the couch? Under the growing bags that hang under my eyes, reminding me of my inability to get what one would classify as a full rest involving having eyes closed and remaining closed for a complete eight hours?

I guess that’s more than one question, but you get the idea.

So I need to find some rest but it is something that I cannot have. I am unavailable for rest. I am available for pulling my hair out and hoping that everything I need happens sooner rather than later. I also am available for sitting here and wondering where the day went and ignoring the amount of stuff I’ve gotten done due to a need to ensure that I always feel I’ve not done enough.

I could get up and go to bed and try to rest but that would involve some sort of effort and I don’t want to expend the energy that I have into something that I have not in case I don’t get it after all the work. It is only good to do things in which I know I’ll succeed. Otherwise what’s the point?

Well, of course there is always a point but that’s beside the point. The whole thing here is that I need rest but will never get the rest I need and so I just need to continue on with my life and hope that I get the rest I need somewhere along the way. I don’t think it will happen and perhaps I will prevent it from happening as, even though its happening does mean some sort of success, in reality that is what I am afraid of.

There is a deep and primal fear inside of me that success will lead to more success and I am not one to go down the path of achievements. The only thing I can really do is stay here and sit still and wait for the sun to pass before I go to the floor and start crawling and howling, startling the neighbours and planting the seeds of terror in the hearts of the innocent. Slowly I lose distinct features until I become an amorphous shadowy form and no one will know what I stand for and where I’m going.

I’d be going down the road to get some ice cream but they don’t need to know that, and perhaps it is better that they don’t know. There are things that people are not meant to know and their knowing could very well upset that.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:13:76

I feel this bit of writing got better toward the end, and that feeling is partly based on the increase in silliness.

Written at home.