This is hard to write about. Mainly it is hard to write about because I am so damned tired. Typing into the keyboard is making my shoulders hurt and my eyes are burning like hot coals from inside my head.
Fatigue is a quiet enemy. It sneaks up and wraps itself around you like a boa constrictor. At first you think you can handle it. Or, you think maybe you can get it to just drop off.
Or, maybe you can learn to live with it just sort of attached to you at all times but not squeezing you to death. Like you and the boa constrictor called fatigue can come to a sort of agreement,
“I won’t make a big fuss about the fact you are here if you won’t squeeze me.”
“Yeah. Sure. I won’t squeeze. Lean into me; I am more of a brace than a handicap. I can help you sleep and relax. I’m a good excuse to get out of things you don’t want to do anyway. Trust me. I am your friend.”
But inevitably the coils begin to tighten. It is imperceptible at first.
“Hey. Snake. Stop it.”
“Who? Me? I’m not doing anything. You just over did it yesterday. This is your fault. Not mine.”
Then the soreness and the pain start to set in. The joints begin to burn and the mind seems sort of sluggish, as though the oxygen were cut off somehow. Fatigue is more than just being sleepy. It is like a systemic shut down. Like someone is dimming the lights and squeezing the life out of you.
“S.N.A.K.E. You motherfucker: you are killing me. This was your plan all along. I really wonder what you plan to do with my carcass. I don’t think you can swallow my fat ass whole! Besides, I am not going to be your kill for the day.I will do whatever it takes to beat you back: Sleep, meds, infusions, weird foods,Shots every day, no more gluten, never drink alcohol, blah, blah, blah.
But, Snake, you will NOT eat me.
Let go you scaly bastard. I know you will be back for another round but trust me, I will win.
I am not scared of you. I’m just a little sleepy.