By definition, I could be saying that I am,
“very tired.”
Not because I haven’t been sleeping well lately,
although that might be true,
but because I have been fighting the inevitable
for far too long.
You see, lately,
my life has been a game of capture the flag.
I am so focused on the prize
if I want to get some sleep,
I’d have to gouge my eyes.
Lately, life has been like dodgeball on the freeway,
dodging cars like bullets
jumping from one medium of self-harm to another
to avoid the pavement like lava,
and my legs are tired.
Yeah, I guess I could say that I’m very tired.
By definition, I could be saying,
“I am drained of my physical and mental resources,”
which might also be true,
but how can something be drained
if it hasn’t been filled?
Of course, a question like that
is meant for a Schroedinger cat:
as long as we don’t know the truth,
we don’t have to answer.
We can sweep it all under the rug
and pretend we don’t notice the accumulation of
maladaptive coping mechanisms,
stacking tall like a mountain of legos
because you’re not the one
who has to climb it.
You don’t have to endure the pain
shooting up your legs
with every step you take.
You get to cheer me on
as the mountain grows taller
the incline gets steeper
my pores bleed sweat
and my arms weaken.
Every time I look up,
the summit has shrunk,
and I lose hope
of ever making it to the top.
Yeah, I guess I could say that I am drained.
By definition, I could be saying, “I have been used up.”
But, more accurately, I should say,
“I have been used.”
I have been used as a furnace.
You lit a fire under my ass
to make me work harder
but I was so afraid of your disappointment
I worked myself to death
and let you down anyway.
I have been used as a dumping ground.
I stored all your secrets to hide all my own,
hoarded the scraps of our one-sided relationship
so, when I grow nostalgic,
I can hold them close to my chest
and hate myself for letting you leave
and even more for missing you.
I have been used as a punching bag
when hitting rock bottom wasn’t enough for you,
and a punchline while we’re in public
because beating me down is only fun
when you have an audience
but beating me up is legally frowned upon.
Yeah, I guess I could say I have been used up.
But I have also been so many other things.
I have been happy.
I may not have been
“completely,
perfectly,
incandescently happy”
but I’ve caught glimpses of what it feels like
only to have it ripped out from under me,
like a tablecloth underneath china
that shatters to the floor.
I’ve been a carnival of emotion,
where my mood
climaxes
and plummets
at the speed of a roller coaster.
My mind spins like a carousel,
thoughts scream like little children
who are denied another ride.
I’ve been the last sister,
racing to meet the standards
set by the ones before her,
with the added pressure of having
a reputation to protect.
I have been the perpetually single one,
the artist who wasn’t good enough,
and the lightweight who didn’t eat before tequila
and made a fool of herself on a stranger’s bathroom floor.
But out of everything I have been,
I think the most important of them all,
is that I am the last person I expected to make it
this far.
So yeah, I guess you could say,
I am exhausted.
You'll find this on page 49 of my book, "Flames Speak", out now. Buy here.
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