Big Salmon Lake wake up, sleepyhead, it's happening without you

The words feel similar to a slap. He blinks hard, fighting tears again. How can I show it? The words come out thin and strained, desperate. I'll — I'll do anything. I will. There's a cold, hollow feeling growing in his chest. He's suddenly exhausted beyond words, tired to the core the way he'd been when Cupid had found him on that mountain. Hopelessness, he'll realize later. Right now he can only name it misery.