Too tired to think of a title

I should be in bed, attempting sleep, letting sweet sweet dreams wash over me
(although, lets be honest,
dreams these days are far from sweet, offering no promise.
They are instead a black hole of nightmares that come crawling out from the corners of my eyelids to rip away the remaining light left in my soul).

I should be in bed, attempting sleep, letting my body rest, in an attempt to prepare for tomorrow
(although, lets be honest,
nothing can quite possibly prepare me for another day of being me,
the me of now, the one who although she’s restless she cannot rest for want of an end to the voices in her head).

Well that went somewhere I didn’t first intend to type . . .

Point is I am tired. And I am tired of being tired. And all my hypersensitive bullcrap is enough to just —

No, don’t do that to yourself.

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2 thoughts on “Too tired to think of a title

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