If anyone ever asked him what was wrong, he couldn’t say because he didn’t know himself. All he knew was that he always felt a deep kind of tired, and no amount of sleep seemed to fill the hole that tiredness scraped out in his brain. Through all his days he carried a vapor of disappointment, similar to how you feel when you come out of the darkness of a movie theater and step into the letdown of daylight, with everything the same as you had left it. Only for him, this feeling never left his side. And though he had accepted it long ago, he still became quietly frustrated when he noticed that everyone around him seemed perfectly fine.