I looked at myself in the mirror: unshaven, but not in a rugged way, more sort of half-way between stubble and beard; hair, wiry, uncontrollable and grey; eyes sunk behind dusty lenses, and my shirt looking crumpled like crepe paper.
I looked tired. And it was already time to leave for work.
If I look tired, it's mostly because I am. Another busy day yesterday was followed by an awful sleepless night, complete with indigestion, scratchy sheets, the quiet radio and the sky growing lighter through the curtains. My mind raced through the small hours like an out-of-control refuse collector.
I really need to find a way to sleep. I think it's starting to affect other areas of my life, and that is troubling me. What if I can no longer do my job? What if I'm so cranky and so grumpy that I'm accidentally (or deliberately) rude to people? What if I'm just not concentrating and miss those moments of life to be awake for? It all feels rather edgy at the moment, as though I could slip so easily into any of those things.
My reflection stared back at me. I straightened my collar and ran my fingers through my hair to smooth it down a bit. There was nothing I could do about the heavy eyelids or the dry cracking skin around them. One deep breath, and maybe I'll have energy to get through the day.
No comments:
Post a Comment