Why Am I So Tired? An Autobiography by Me

Alright. I admit it.

I am so fucking tired.

I was so tired this morning, in fact, that I didn’t so much walk into my kitchen as much as bounced off of every wall haphazardly until I ran into the countertop holding my coffee supplies. Balance is hard when you can’t keep your eyes open and your head feels like a fifty pound kettle ball.

If I were to be entirely honest though, this is not an unusual occurrence. Since I was a baby, I always had issues falling asleep. My mother loves to remind me that she didn’t become a night owl until she gave birth to my sister and me, and I can recall many a night when falling asleep took about 3-4 hours to achieve and staying asleep was just as difficult. Unfortunately, physical activity doesn’t always help, and medications carry a risk of addiction and a whole slew of side effects that I prefer to avoid at all costs.

So what is a girl to do when she can’t get enough rest?

Drink coffee, of course.


I drink coffee for many reasons, but in the mornings, when I’d rather die than talk to someone, and in the evenings, when my brain is processing information at the same speed as my 7-year old, crash-prone PC, its caffeine content is the sole reason for consumption.

Its effects are short-lived, but they are life saving and life giving. Without the energizing power of coffee, I would not be able to speak with others, read a book, see colors, hold a job, or write for this barely maintained blog. If I found myself in an apocalyptic future where clean water and therefore coffee was not available, I would probably just lay down in a corner somewhere and die.

And who really wants to live in a world without coffee anyway?


So if one day, you see me walking down a hall, bumping into walls and slurring my words, I swear I’m not drunk, just in desperate need of some coffee.

And if you bring me some, I’ll love you forever.


The one and the only Pookachino


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