Those are the three words that are my freaking salvation. On days when the dysthymia feels like a part of my bloodstream and I can’t hold back tears or visible brokenness, those are the words I use, and those are the words I find most dangerous.
I’ve never been able to get through a simple, “I’m fine” without having it sound false, so I invented my own system. Whenever anyone asked if I was okay or if I was sad or upset, I would tell them I was just tired. It would explain my physical state and wouldn’t be too far from the truth.
Come to think of it, maybe it is the truth. Maybe I’m just tired; tired of a school system that judges me based on how well I can remember big words and “important dates”, tired of having friends and a family I rarely get to see because I work two jobs, tired of being so stressed all the time that I can barely breathe…
I think I’m just tired of being so damn tired.
There are days when I wake up and miss the comatose state I had just gotten out of. There are days when molehills seem like unclimbable mountains and puddles seem like unfathomable depths. I don’t even know how I manage to keep smiling some days, so it’s no surprise I can’t always maintain composure.
I’m just tired.
But no sleep can satisfy this tiredness. Even when I sleep, I’m filled with nightmares that wake me up in a fit of screams or tears (or both). Sleep is just another enemy to fight along with the endless piles of work and money troubles and boy problems and body image issues and I’m just. So. Tired.
So why don’t I let this off of my chest?
Because you’re tired too, most likely. You’re tired of your own demons and problems, and you sure as hell don’t need mine. If I vent to you or cry to you or tell you how I’m feeling – so long as it doesn’t involve tiredness – know that I’m sorry. I know you’re tired too. Vent or cry to me whenever you feel like and I will not judge you either.
Because I know the world is kind of tired of listening to you. It’s tired of listening to me too.