Tired.

“Tired” is the adjective I use in public to explain the look on my face. A friend of mine once said that I have a “resting sad face,” whatever that means. I guess it means that sometimes when I’m lost in thought, my face naturally looks sad. I’m often asked by people who catch me in one of these mental states whether I’m okay.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” I say. Over and over.

I think the majority of people who ask this question, do it out of obligation, unprepared for knowing the truth behind the response. They don’t have time to listen to the truth. I’m often thrown a “how are you” as I pass someone in the hallway, the person not even pausing to listen to the response. They don’t actually want to know. Most of them don’t, anyway.

The “tired” response isn’t a lie, though. I’m tired of a lot of things, I’m tired on many levels. I’ve lost more than a few Z’s in this life. Physically fatigue doesn’t even begin to represent the capacity of my exhaustion.

I’m tired of this country making promises it never keeps.

I’m tired of believing in a movement, only to have that belief refuted once again.

I’m tired of feeling afraid to be myself, because I live in a country where my identity makes me a target for hate.

I’m tired of living my life in a permanent state of hypertension, constantly bracing myself…

I’m so. fucking. tired. And I know that I have good company in being tired.

But how do we give energy to an entire country? How to we hold each other up when we’re all collapsing to the ground? I’m trying each day to stand…

But god damnit. I just want to lie down.