i get tired but the tired is a buckshot. the tired is a can’t-come-to-class. the tired is a “lazy” is a “have you tried yoga” the tired is - i can’t look at the moon right now, she knows too much and she’s weeping. i get tired but it’s not pretty like a christmas spirit kind of cozy, i get tired like “why didn’t you finish making presents i thought you loved us”.
i get tired but everybody is tired of me saying i’m tired so it just sounds like i’m saying “i never tried anything else.” i have tried everything else. i am even sometimes not-tired-anymore, and then i slide like ice skates back to the starting space and i’ve used so many hands to pull me up that nobody is offering them anymore. i don’t blame them. it’s all hard enough without hearing “i’m tired” for the seven-hundredth time this month. but i am tired.
in the movies, i am tired only until i learn better. in the movies, i’m only tired because i don’t have a lover, or because i’m lonely, or because i haven’t had enough kale/holiday joy/near-death-experiences. in the movies, i kiss the right person or i string the right garland or i look over the full choir during caroling and i realize - i’m not tired anymore, and i’m cured forever, and i go home and throw out the liquor and clean my apartment. in the movies, i am not tired, i just haven’t tried the right thing.
baby hang on. i want to try the right thing. but all of this, and this beautiful earth i love - it feels numb, and raw, and bleak. i’ll be down in a second. i just want to sleep. i’ll be down in a second. i promise, i want to come, i want to be there, i want to be wanting. i want us all to never be tired again. i want us all to be happy. i want to say “merry” and mean “bright.” i want to say “i’m better” and mean it forever this time.
i want to. i want to. i want to. i’m trying.
