I’m not talking about the shit that you have to do for work. It’s not about work. It’s not about your boss. It’s not about obligations to the world. It’s about obligations to yourself. It’s about the promises that you make to yourself – the dreams that you sword you would make real when you were a child. It’s about you. The work that you do to become the best version of yourself – the “goal you.” The thing that all your ambitions add up to.
When you walk away from your work; when you walk away from your learning, and you’re going home with nothing to do, there’s so many possibilities. You know this. I know this. We – everybody knows this feeling all too well. So close but so far – the allure of greatness, the visions of the future, and the temptation of the devil.
You’re face to face with the cardinal sin you’re most familiar with: Sloth.
As you walk along the pathway that leads to your door, you’re overcome with this heaviness. This lethargy. A drowsy feeling. Your eyes are falling, but you know that you were supposed to work on your project today. You knew, and you even tried to remind yourself of how bad you would feel afterwards if you didn’t do it. If you fall asleep again…
But when you’re locking the door behind you, the bed doesn’t seem like all too bad a place. The promise of unconsciousness and pillows draws you to it. Just a few minutes, you say. And you lay down.
You set the alarm.
A few hours, you say. You hang your head down in shame, but all it doe is make you sleepier. “Next time…” Your lips mutter softly as you fall down the abyssal cliff of sleep. You wrap your blanket around you, and your mind shuts off. No more thinking. No more regret. No more pain, and no more self-inflicted shame. No more. Only sleep, now. Only limbo.
I used to be afraid of the dark. I used to hide under the covers at night, because I thought something would come to get me. Now, I associate darkness with sleep. Sleep is my drug, and every night, I try to control my cravings. I try to push the time back; to keep the day going as long as possible. The day ends at 2:00am for me.
And when I wake up, I regret that decision. I can’t try to keep sleep in moderation. It isn’t going to work, because I’m just going to balance it out with more sleep at a different time. So I oversleep on the weekends. I’m starting to take naps. I used to make fun of my friend for napping. I asked him mockingly “Are you a senior citizen? Why are you taking a nap?”
And now, I can truly realize the injustice of those words. I’m a hypocrite. I get tired too. I’m supposed to have a schedule, but schedules make me worried. They remind me of time constraints and ambition. And the feeling of impending doom that I get in my stomach any time somebody says the word “project.”