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Fatigue


Exhaustion is my constant companion. Every single day, I am forced to grip the wires, as they bite greedily into the flesh of my palm, leaving a pearly tapestry of scars. Gloves don’t help any, as they leave the wires slippery, hard to tame. I bend my back to the point of breaking, as every fiber of my being wails in agony.

If it were just the physical exertion, that would be fine. I can ignore the fatigue turning my limbs to jelly. But no, in this line of work, the true killer is the complaining. Every person I help wants something more, demands a different level of service. They insist they could do better, in my position. It never bothered me at first, all of their complaints. I let it wash off my back, and held the wires sturdy. But, as long as I’ve been in this position, a fog of fatigue has blanketed my mind. The little nagging voices have crept in, doubt crippling my every action.

Yet, still, I do my job. Though those I help are ungrateful. However, I’m starting to worry. You see, along with fatigue came something else.

Apathy.

I’ve forgotten why I cared to hold the wires, in the first place. I remember when I first made the conscious decision to let one wire just … slip. To lighten the load.

Below me, the world cried out in terror as the Earth shuddered in it’s place in the universe. I felt a dull sense of guilt, but I’ve come to my decision.

It’s time to let go.

I am a tired God.

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

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