You’ve been like this your whole life; overachieving and overthinking workaholic.

Especially these last few months. It’s study season, the most dreaded portion of the school year. It’s the time of year you’re the most self-destructive. You’re out of the apartment most days, either at the library or a coffee shop.

When you’re at home, you’re nothing short of a mess. He hasn’t seen you asleep in a month, and he’s not sure if you’re under or overeating. Today’s his last straw.

After watching you nod off at the kitchen table for a solid five minutes, Jefferson approaches. He pats your shoulder, shaking you as awake as you can get. “Alright, champ, you’re done. Head to bed.” He states, gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder.