The fatigue grips me like a tentacled monster drags me under the pillows and covers and shade of darkness no matter how often I try to come up for air. My eyes close like old oak doors - too heavy to be popped open - the hinges worn from years of rust and tears. If I hide in the covers, maybe the world can't get me. It's so warm and cozy in the nest of the bed. How am I supposed to crawl out?