I don't like feeling tired - all the thoughts in my head collapse into a lumpy stream of blah blah blah, occasionally interspersed with comments of astonishing cruelty from the little man that sits in the back of my head and tells me what I do wrong.
He seems to be the custodian of all my mistakes. He keeps them neatly indexed and cross-referenced. He's been getting creative lately though. He has taken to pulling out things that are not mistakes, and trying to make me feel like they are.
Note to self, and to you too, little man: Just because the road is hard, doesn't mean it is wrong.