Hell In A Cavity

Snuff's pathetic. Smoking's pathetic. Morning hellos are pathetic. Everything, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. This is my post-morning mood. It's 7.36 AM and I'm hellishly, hellishly tired. Do I have myself to blame? Partly, sure. I could have gone to bed earlier than 2 AM, and I didn't have to start that new story, that new idea, that was just... perfect. But overall, it's another kind of tiredness. It's the working-11-days-in-a-row-with-another-day-to-go kind of tired, in combination with the after-one-day-off-it's-another-9-days-straight kind of tired; spiced on the top with some freakish nightmares and novel deadline angst. Give me a break, I'm fading away. Dad says this tiredness is laziness. He thinks my generation just isn't used to working. Heh. Funny, when I worked at the school and had weekends off, I was never this tired. Why? Because it was a different job. Even though it was a lot tougher than my current one, it meant something, I felt like I was at least making a difference.
I don't make a difference here. I keep passing on tobacco and petrol, exchanging the same old lines every day with the same old customers. Some days it's alright. Today it feels like hell in a cavity, and that I'll be stuck here, forever.
I just want to sleep... but even when I get off from work, I can't. I have a million things that need attending to.
Just in case you won't see me online this very immediate future, I'm probably passed out in some corner.
Sis refused to start work at 2PM today because she was too tired. She goes on at 4. I know she worked a lot while I was away in Finland, but I sort of envy her a bit. I don't have the same guts as her, and it feels wrong to me to stand up and say "Hey. I'm tired. Help me." Maybe because I'm so fucking scared they'll be disappointed in me if I do.
POET in the SCARED and PARANOID INSOMNIAC JAR
PS. Was really paranoid this morning, drove all the way here crying. Missed John when I woke up. Hope he's alright. DS.