Could there be no reason?

His mother loved him,

His father loved him.

But what he loved most of all

Was to sleep.

That’s all it ever was.

All throughout his school years,

he had been a Top Student,

a distinction which, (especially)

when uttered out loud, had always

made him shift uncomfortably.

Now, on the job, his employer

never missed an opportunity to commend him,

to which he would always

smile uneasily.

In stories maybe there would be a greater struggle.

In Fiction, there were Symbols and Climaxes and Narrative Arcs.

But in Real Life, he thought,

it could be like this.

It often was.

Eventually

(later rather than sooner)

he took the pills

he lay down . . .

Many missed him.

He had known they would.