Time Of Fatigue: Forever

Doctor:
When did the fatigue start?
Me:
Roughly 1997.
Peaked in 2006.
Set up permanent residency in my soul by 2013.

Time of fatigue?
Forever.
Check the chart.

It’s less of a phase,
more of a lifestyle.
Like minimalism,
but for energy.

I’m not tired,
I am tired.
Tired is my brand.
Tired is my core identity.
Tired is the reason I keep saying “let’s reschedule”
and then rescheduling the rescheduling.

I’m tired in my spine.
Tired in my knees.
Tired in the subatomic particles
that form my bloodstream.

And yet—
I do wake up.
Eventually.
Always surprised.
“Again?”
Bold of my body to keep trying
when my brain has been out of office since Wednesday.

People say:
“You just need more sleep!”
Oh okay.
Let me go back in time
and un-live the last 40 years of emotional damage.
Then I’ll nap.
Sure.

I drink water.
I stretch.
I journal (unwillingly).
Still tired.
Maybe I’m cursed.
Maybe this is inherited.
Maybe I’m carrying ancestral exhaustion
in my jaw.

Sleep is not rest
when you’re haunted
by everything you forgot to do yesterday
and also in 1994.

At this point,
coffee is a love language.
So is silence.
So is being horizontal
with no one needing anything
and no thoughts in my head
except “wow, I should be doing something.”

But I’m not.
Because it’s rest time.
Which is every time.
Because the time of fatigue?
Forever.