Sleep is the cousin of death

There was a boy named Aundry. He was very talented. Yet he gained no success.

He squandered his potential. All due to one thing. And that was sleeping a lot and avoiding the outside world.

One day at a sufficiently old age, he realised he was not as smart as he thought, not a careful as he believed and not as intelligent as he seemed.

He had slept so much that he had missed out on most things. He would sleep after waking up in the morning, in the afternoon, at night ofcourse and during random times of the day. He LOVED sleeping. Nothing could come between him and sleeping. Not his drive for success, not the want to make friends, neither losing his milestones in a very real sense. But sleep he did.

For the life of him, he could not get out of bed. Or he would be disciplined for a coule of days but get back to his old ways soon enough. Sometimes he would sleep depressed at the world and wanting to avoid everything. Sometimes he would sleep happy wanting to enjoy that last whisker of the nether world where no one would disturb him. Sometimes he would sleep in his room hiding away from the guests that came to his house. But sleep he did.

When Aundry went to college, this continued. It became a more prominent issue because he started experiencing high levels of anxiety and the warm embrace of sleep seemed so enticing in his hostel rooms. Sometimes he would fake sleep in presence of his roommates and then fall asleep for real. But sleep he did.

It was becoming evident to Aundry that he was facing problems in the realms of mental, physical, emotional and spiritual health as he knew all of these were connected.