26 Nov

I can’t open my eyes.

I mean I *can* but my eyelids feel the weight of the world when my brain is filled with chaotic chronicles of everything that is good bad ugly and oh my god, is it crowded up there.

The noise, sounds, beeps and screams.

Conversations playing over, what could I have said, what should I have said, and wait. what did I even say in the first place?

It keeps me up at night so much that my eyes burn first thing in the morning. Did the rest even count if my brain was running a marathon on repeat? 

So no, 

I can’t open my eyes.

Now my body can’t move.

Or maybe? It moves too much.

My toes cold, my legs ache, I can’t get comfortable. My back feels warped, my hips struggle to stay aligned. My feet, restless, still cold even in the tucked blankets. 

Now my head itches and my hair hurts and my jaw’s clenched and wait, where is my tongue?Okay good it’s resting on the roof of my mouth where it should be but now? The pillow is warm so I have to rearrange and start all over.

I wake up. There’s a crick in my neck from not allowing my muscles to ever relax, and they scream in sore because even they can’t get any rest around here. It’s time to get going but still, 

My body can’t move.

You claim to know what my “tired” is. 

It’s just something we’ve felt all our lives. But no one prepared me to be a thyroidless gal trying to stay alive and alert in this world. The synthetic state fighting with your own brain and body just to fall asleep. 

And if you get to fall asleep, you better be prepared to stay asleep, because that’s another losing battle in this ever lost war. 

So don’t you claim to know what my “tired” is. 

Because *just* tired isn’t 



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