The tired weariness creeps in like a shadow, and I’m left alone. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to wish the pain away. But it won’t disappear. I must press on. I must ignore the pain. I must fight the power. Temptation is a tasty treat, laced with poison. I must look away, I must move on. Change the channel–no, shut it off. Move on and find something better to do with your time. Your half an hour wasted could have been spent conquering the world. The warm, soft pillow calls your name, and you forsake it for what? Is it something worthy, worthy of the crusty eyed, don’t talk to me feeling you’ll have in the morning? I want to do so much, say so much, be so much–yet look at the time. It’s almost tomorrow.