Tired

The hardest thing is being so tired all the time. They all say to get outside, that experiences are the rungs with which to climb out of these dark times. My armor is too heavy to lift, the joints too rusted to bend, it splinters off, catching under the fingernails of the people around me- invisible and uncomfortable. When I was 9 my father died. When I was 11 my mother’s boyfriend was verbally and physically abusive. When I was 17, the “good man” my mother left the abusive one for cheated and divorced her. By 20 I was the subject of abuse in the military due to my lack of religious affiliation. At 23 my infant son died in my arms. At 27 I found out my wife, the last person in the world I trusted, cheated on me with our friend. I found out the day after I first felt hope for the first time; now it’s gone. I persevere because I have to, for some reason. There is some sense of duty to my family who has already suffered so much. A life lived simply so others don’t suffer is not the strongest of motivations.