Quiet often, when I'm not being my usual, ebullient, self, people ask me what's wrong. Many know I'm manic-depressive, so their concern is warranted, I suppose. They all seem frustrated, though, when I reply with "Nothing... I'm just tired." For some reason, they think I haven't gotten enough sleep, though I assure them I got enough... six to nine hours, most nights. I think that, often, they feel like I'm shutting them out, not telling them what's really wrong. This, I suppose, is dedicated to those who care enough to ask why I look so down, because I am tired.

Imagine yourself walking a dog down a path, through strange territory. You're on a long journey, and your entire world is in your pack. You know the path is safe, but all your map tells you about the land outside that path is "Here there be Dragons". The dog, however, isn't content to stay on the path... in the way of all dogs, he wants to run off the path, to smell at a tree or dig a hole, to chase a cat or scare a squirrel... to do things that he thinks are fun. All the time you're walking this path, then, you have to fight this dog, which only wants to act like the other dogs get to. By the middle of the day, you're starting to flag, but you know that to step off the path, or to let the dog go, is to invite the wrath of dragons.

As you may have guessed, I'm both the man on the path and the dog on the leash. One part of me, the rational part, is trying to keep myself on a path that at least resembles the sanity of everyone else. Another part of me, though, wants to indulge myself... to take a swing at an annoying classmate, to grab another and pull her to me, to take something apart just because I can and it's there... to do as my nature would have me do. But I can't allow that, because I know that will force me to step off the path, and into a land of dragons.

I've been there before, of course. I've wandered off the path and conversed with dragons of my own creation... if I could show you my soul, you'd see the scars there, because even the dragons we create are still dragons, and we remain crunchy and good with ketchup. I've even been prepared to walk that wilderness again, to bring someone out. But I have no wish to converse with dragons anymore, or to feel the caress of talons and fiery breath.

And so, each day I fight myself... I fight against the things I want so I can be the kind of man I need to be. And it always leaves me tired... some days more than others, but always my shoulders ache from the strain of carrying my world and the pulling of the dog against the chain. Sometimes, I ask myself to just let me go, so I can abandon the burden of my world and see what's beyond the reach of this leash... the tether of my own making. But, despite the ache in my shoulders and the whining of the dog, I continue on until the end of the day, only to rise bone-tired the next day and continue my journey.

And so, when people ask me why I seem down, I tell them I'm tired. I tell them that, and hope they'll understand that it is not my body that seeks rest, but my soul. I tell them I'm tired, and continue on the road... because while only the Norns know where this road goes, I have to keep walking it. I can't imagine stopping, any more then I can decide to go back.