Drained

I really question myself nowdays about the life I should be the living and the one I actually am. Is it normal to feel continuously drained and exhausted, barely holding on to the end of the line each day? I know in my heart it shouldn't be this way. My friend tells me he barely sleeps when he gets home from camp. There's so much to do outside that sleeping seems a waste. To me it's the opposite. Once I've bathed and settled into clean clothes back home, a general sense of fatigue always falls upon me, and I crawl into bed. It's as if before reaching home my body's working overtime to maintain this hyped-up state of urgency to detect and pre-empt all nonsense in camp, and once I'm back the line, stretched to breaking point, snaps.

This continuous fatigue is making me feel as though the world owes me something everytime I book out. I know it from the way I react to things. I get so irritated when I reach home and see my brother on the computer, as he invariably is, because I feel I should be granted uninterrupted access to the computer at home. I get mad at the bloodcurdlingly slow pace of human traffic in the train stations, as if the whole world is out to delay my return to home. I fume when I have to eat a lousy meal on the weekends, because I want to enjoy myself after all the crap I stomach during the week. I'm becoming a crabbier, more short-tempered person by the day; I can see it in myself. I am plagued by fears, worries, anxieties, tossed to and fro on waves of uncertainty. I need a break, a very long break to recuperate.