Tunnel's End (General Discussion)

I'm not going to pull any punches.

I'm going to be perfectly blunt.

Sometimes I feel so bad inside, I feel like I want to die.

That is not to say that I actually want to die, but I want to convey certain sentiments of mine.

One is exhaustion. Sleeping for five hours a night, on average, is a fairly common occurrence for a college student. Yet, I can't help but to wonder if I've been driving myself past my limits in order to achieve the "A" grades I've earned.

A couple of months ago, I worked so late into the night that once I was finished, I slept for only thirty minutes before getting up again to go to class.

I told a friend recently that "I'll sleep when I die."

Now I know why I like 24 so much: I identify with Jack Bauer.

I feel like a man on a mission; who can't allow himself to rest until the mission is complete.

My impetus is the passion I have for the work that I do. The work I do for school doesn't feel much like work to me. It has purpose. It has meaning.

If there's one thing I know for certain it's that nothing I've given of myself has been wasted.

I know what it feels like to do work that has no value or worth, it's loathsome. Taking courses this semester has been the total opposite of that.

That's not to say I don't feel any pain; I most certainly do.

College is both physically and psychologically demanding.

Some days when I return home, I go into my bedroom and free-fall onto a mattress that easily could be six feet deep.

I press my body against its surface, desperately trying to massage my every sore muscle. I can hear Sergeant Barnes' voice in my head, telling me to "take the pain."

But I don't always feel pain. Sometimes I feel numb.

Sometimes my brain feels like a blown fuse that's been overloaded. I feel like I can't think.

Actually, I don't care to think.

And I don't care to move, either.

Too much information. Too little REM.

I'm a wet-noodle; cooked and strained.

Not enough time available for me to round myself back into shape.

And maybe not enough time to fulfill my vision.

I'm 26. I can't help but to wonder if my window of opportunity is narrowing.

I don't want to keep up with the Joneses. I know I can't, and it's useless for me to try.

I can only try to work at a comfortable pace, but sometimes convenience takes priority over comfort.

Convenience, for me, is determined by necessity.

I have a lot of necessities. Just call me Baloo.

Full autonomy...a place to call my own...those are necessities.

That's why I'm still in the game.

The fulfillment of my earthly goals can only be achieved through hard work and sacrifice.

I don't ignore the pain. I absorb it.

I convert it into resolve. It makes me stronger.

I've waded through the darkness long enough to know how to feel my way towards the light.