Laziness and Lethargy

You know what needs to be done. The list is in front of you, the deadline is approaching, the room is waiting to be tidied, the body is waiting to be moved, the project is waiting to begin. And yet you don't stir. Not from exhaustion in the classic sense — you haven't collapsed, you're not sick, not really tired. You simply sit there. The impulse to act doesn't arise. Or it arises and dies before it reaches your limbs. Between the knowledge that you should do something and the actual doing lies a viscous, invisible layer. An inner no that you don't quite understand.

Lethargy feels like syrup in the thoughts. Like a weight that sits not on your shoulder, but somewhere behind the breastbone. You resolve to start — and find yourself twenty minutes later on your phone, in a series episode, in a new cup of coffee. This is not relaxation. It is also not recovery. It is avoidance.