Tiredom-tiredom-tiredom-tiredom.............
I’m tired.
I’m tired of myself.
I’m tired for constantly waiting for that Monday to arrive.
I’ve been around 29 years and it’s still decided not to come into my life.
What do I have to do to change that I ask myself.
I know exactly. Well, I like to think I know.
It’s hard to speak without using tired cliches. Very hard. So much so that it puts me off speaking.
This is different though.
It has the potential to be something different.
But many things have potential.
A looming mountain sits and waits, not caring about the ever darkening shadow it casts.
It mocks.
It knows it’s power.
It lives off it.
It depends on it.
‘Look at me’, it whispers.
You’ll never see what I can see. Never.
Every night I see passage ways, not to the top of this mountain, but merely towards this beast.
At nighttime I am king.
I sleep with a head full of personal inventions.
I awake to an all too familiar sensation of knowing that during the day procrastination will better me.
Again I am tired.
Always tired.
Always…something.
But never, it seems, nearer to the mountain.
It’s time to be king during the day.
Я устал.
Я устал от себя.
...