How much time has gone by since my body has been fully awake? No matter night or day, something has felt amiss. I wish I knew the reason for these droopy eyelids and for my consciousness, adrift in this strange state of half-conscious suspension. There would be something to blame if I knew. Still, I remain half asleep and in waiting to finally wake up.
Several days have passed since the wave of sleepy fog, and danger looms ever so closely. Simple encounters with the world are no longer as harmless as they once were. Kitchen knives on chopping boards inch closer to my hands than they should. And short drives down to the shops become battles of attrition between wakefulness and unconsciousness.
I’ve been half asleep. At the wheel, in regular conversations, and perhaps even in my slumber. When every little thing now threatens my physical safety, how should I ought to proceed? Because even when the sun shines, sleep is all this body desires. It’s urgent. I must find a solution—figure out a cure before I may forfeit my life doing something remarkably mundane.
I’m driving somewhere close, but not close enough. You need to sleep now.
水 