Exhaustion. The only thing my body seems to know anymore. The only thing my body seems to be able to accomplish. It's like my body chases after it. I know I need sleep, and so does my body, but once I lay down, my mind becomes like a thousand dandelion seeds being blown in the wind, each seed planting somewhere else, and an idea forming. This has become the nightly routine, which in and of itself is not a bad thing, but when sleep and ideas collide. Ideas always win.
Amidst the waves of sleepiness, nausea, and achy-ness as my body tries to figure out how hours of sleep got away from us, there is always the need to go on, persist. Keep my eyes open just an hour longer, until I can rest. To focus on what the teacher is saying, although my daydreams are far more enchanting. At the end of the day, after fighting myself, for what seems to be years, I look and see that it's almost time to rest once more. Triumph. That is the only word that makes sense in that moment. There is something about pushing your body to do what it thinks it cannot that is one of the best feeling for your soul. Although this night may not be the night my mind turns off, I can always dream.
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