The Foe of Fatigue

I contented a need yesterday that I have not required since my imaginative flow was expressed in coloring books, Simba was my one true love, and my knowledge was acquired from my pious screening of Sesame Street. At 8 o’clock p.m., I went to sleep. This is a happening I am mortified and reluctant to disclose. But, there was no other alternative. I promise. For days, my endeavors to write, think, read, or to do any of my intrinsic conducts were impeded by exhaustion. So, I either had to cease my soul’s habits or go against the grain of my nature and disregard the night. I opted to give the Destroyer of Life, which I call sleep, a blow at my character this once. In truth, I fashioned this foe of fatigue by occupying my time of sleep with reading or thinking. Bah! O how I abhor sleep and long to stay awake always. Why can I not transcend this human constraint? Auspiciously, in giving my antagonist the upper hand there was a special burn on the sunrise this morning because I rose above the strike. All of the contemplations that had unconsciously amassed and were hindered by my zombie-like condition, emptied out of my person. The unoccupied spaces on the edges of my lecture notes, I crammed with illegible ideas. At work, I almost had to clean the thoughts emanating out of my pours off of the dishes along with the leftover sustenance of lunch. I will doubtlessly squander my sleeping hours catching up on all I neglected in my weariness this week, thus refashioning my foe. Alas…