I am…so tired.
It’s the kind of deep, seeping weariness that waits in your capillaries to appear every time you dare to take a step. It’s the kind of tired that hides in the back of your eyes until you want to greet the sun.
It’s not the bad kind of tired though. It’s not the seductive tired of “don’t leave your bed. There’s no reason to go outside.” It’s not the anxious tired of “Why even try, what good will it do?”
It’s the kind of tired that comes with promise. “The sun will be there tomorrow. It does not need your greeting to stay.” “The world will wait. Nothing is happening that will not happen again. There is time. Rest easy”.
I am staying at my friend’s house, with stacks of T.V. shows I’ve never even heard of before, in a bed covered in red Betty Boop prints. It’s luxurious. It’s safe.
I think I’ll go back to sleep for a while.