In need of care
I’m exhausted. That’s the word. Every single little task I have to do seems impossible. I can’t move.
My room is a mess; I haven’t cleaned it in weeks. I don’t even have the energy to brush my teeth.
I have to force myself to eat. Otherwise, I can’t show up to work. And nowadays, productivity is everything.
If you’re not making money, it’s like your existence was a waste of space; you don’t apport anything to society.
It doesn’t exist an acceptable explanation of why you can’t function as the other. You are just making up excuses.
You can’t show up with your brain scans or the doctor’s prescription because they will label you as not fittable.
I’m so tired. Every nerve of my body craves to lay down without having a hard time breathing due to anxiety.
My brain wants to be able to go through one day when I don’t have any intrusive thoughts.
When I suddenly have this burst of energy that only leads me to self-destructive and reckless actions.
I’m so tired of being stuck in my head; when I can’t find the light at the end of the tunnel, I’m sick of it.
I’m sick of my voice, my ideas, of everything I write. I’m exhausted from being a burden for everyone.
What’s the point of being academically intelligent if you can’t control your emotions?
I’m exhausted. I’m terrified of being like this forever. I’m tired of being a burden for everyone.
I’m tired of being labeled as chaotic, the girl who always cries or finds a way to mess everything.
