I’m so tired.
Partially because the ~6 or so hours of sleep I get are of abysmal quality, but I mostly attribute my exhaustion to me being sick. I’m so fucking sick. I’m so exhausted all the time, the nightmares and night terrors plague me and I spend a significant amount of my day thinking about the awful dreams or worrying that it’s some kind of “sign” or “warning,” as if I have precognition or some shit (I know it’s stupid, I don’t know why my anxiety seems to make me delusional to an extent). The effects of my PTSD are fucking debilitating. The dissociation kills me. I often depersonalize and I’m looking at the world through tunnel vision, it feels like I’m in a first-person VR video game and I’m looking down. My hands aren’t mine, everything feels strange and unreal.
“Okay, I’m sick
Not the kind of sick that lands you in the doctor
Not the kind that makes you weak and then heals you stronger
It’s the kind of sick that turns your legs into spaghetti
It’s the kind of sick that makes your blood burn and your bones heavy
The kind of sick that makes an atheist pray for Jesus
The kind of sickness that turns your power into weakness
And I’m sick of being sick for this whole fucking place to witness
And I’m living a sick life that most people call privileged
And they’re kinda right, but I’m still sicker than I can cope with”