It evades me.

Somewhere between the half-lidded eyes and buzzing limbs, and the darting eyes and jittery toes, it disappears and I’m left laying in my bed, alone with my thoughts and the accompanying headache.

It strikes hard when it happens, leaving you breathing so heavily you feel breathless. And when it doesn’t? That’s the worst feeling in the world. Everything aches. You’re conscious of every muscle, every joint, every ligament, and how all of them are sore, stiff, tired.

To be worn out is, in the most literal sense, to be used so often that it becomes unusable. However, that doesn’t signify tiredness. You can be worn out beyond repair, but not feel tired, not be exhausted, not be able to sleep.

Sleep evades me like the lover that got away. She brushes your body in a quick hug and dashes off into the distance, singing a song that gets stuck in your head. Too bad you don’t know the words or the tune.

It leaves you searching, what for, you don’t know. You’re pretty sure you’ve always been searching for something.

It too evades me.


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