Wearing weariness, again

I wore myself out wearing out my welcome without the sharp awareness of the fact that ought to have alerted me, only a vague shadow that I could dimly see but chose not to really, misplaced optimism made me feel free to act without exact knowledge - only the memory of something I once felt that beckoned to me like a mirage, but when I looked carefully - it wasn't there at all. Had it ever been? Was it ever only an illusion? Perhaps, but it inspired me. Can I be inspired by mere reality, which, once broken down, seems more unreal than a dream?

I'm so tired now, let me sleep, perhaps I'll find a dream somehow that can let me feel awake again, and then - it might be the same thing all over again. Grumble grumble.


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