Steward's Log; May ??, 2014

I really started to get exhausted after waking up at 6 am for so long. 

Weariness grows upon me like ivy, its tendrils climbing my body's length so as to ensnare itself to my brain, constricting my thought's core. Each day's passing has begun to wear on my spirit and mind. Mine enthusiasm for stewarding is all but spent, and my greatest challenge to face each day is planting my feet upon the floor so as to rise from my inviting bunk. Fatigue proves my greatest adversary - one that seems to have mitigated my resolve and determined my weaknesses with a cunning eye. As a consequence, sleep provides little relief, no matter the amount of time I spend aslumber. Truly, sailing may be my folly.
However, perhaps my recourse is due in its own time, much as our ship is due for port. Perhaps if I can steel my jangled wits for some time more, I will arise from my own stupor; a phoenix illuminating its own ashes in triumph. I must remain stout in my vigil. I must prevail. Even now, so much of my fated journey is behind me, transpired in a manner befitting my character and station as a steward and as a galley hand. To shore I shall go a whole man; my head held aloft and my bosom inflated, to walk into my true love's embrace, and may the seas and jeering gulls be damned!
It is when a man's trials near an end that they begin to seem truly endless. This hallucination is itself a test and nothing more. My fatigue is but a moment's lag; my slackened wits, a figment. I am as strong a chap this day as I was on any other. I will commit my time and serve it shining. Then, with upheld palm I shall secure the weight of my earned doubloons and make for land, never to take her level keel for granted henceforth.