I’m 19, I don’t think I should be this tired it’s not the kind of tired where you just need a couple of nights of good sleep and your good to go. Its exhaustion, the kind that seeps in to your bones, and your individual cells it makes your ribs, your eyes burn. I just won’t to stop for one minute, without my mind working faster than I can speak, without struggling with anxiety every day since I was 5. I don’t want to be consumed be my depression and by suicide yet again. I don’t won’t my eating disorder to dictate my life.
But here we are and I’m too tired to cry, too exhausted to sleep, to blind to read.
I should clean my room, it grows, it’s giving me anxiety, so I should clean. That’s the obvious choice, but the thing is I have anxiety and depression.
I also work in a kitchen as an assistant manager, 5 days a week, 9 hours a day, and it’s my Friday so fuck cleaning, right???? Noooo I’m going to sit on my bed writing while constantly looking over the sarin jungle that is the clothing blanket covering my floor until I get to fed up with it to do anything else.
And I’m there now.
I’m extremely dyslexic so be kind that this is my legitimate thought process that’s how I think I just wrote down what I was thinking, and there ya go.