More from the front lines of my battle with narcolepsy, frustration, and an apparent life-long inability to shake a perpetual state of PMS:

Being extremely tired does not make it any easier to cope. Not a revolutionary concept, but true. It also makes original thought, smiling and/or laughing, and common courtesy more like aspirational goals than achievable realities.

In my ennui and my fatigue and perpetual state of just-below-the-surface crisis, I have been having a GroundHog Day like conversation with a good friend of mine. He is kind enough to ask me how I am. I respond with an obfuscatory, "Well, you know..." He prods me for details. I demur for a split second and then rant on incessantly till, tears brimming, I make a declaration that "I just can't take this anymore" or "I just can't do this anymore" or "I am just so tired." He then says he is sorry. He is sorry for me, he genuinely feels bad for me, I know. The rant was likely meant to incite such pity, however, once it is forthcoming, I am ashamed. So I always reply, "Sorry for what? There is nothing you can do about it." And there we stand. Not very productive. Basically, this is just an example of how I have made all my friendships boring. I have either tuned out of them altogether or I just prattle on in lamentation about my favorite topic - me. Nothing interests me more, apparently, than my own misery. Who knew?

My problems are of my own making. With luck a good night's sleep (which should bring along with it at least a modicum of perspective) will be forthcoming, and I can make some progress here.