As of 11:58 a.m. on Thursday, Jan. 30:
I’m tired.
Not just in the physical sense, although I wasn’t able to fall asleep until 1 a.m. this morning—not ideal for this college student.
I’m talking about the kind of tiredness that settles into one’s bones. It shows up unannounced, carrying a suitcase in its hand like it plans to stay awhile. And guess what, you don’t have a choice but to let it.
The causes for said tiredness are both internal and external, mental and not.
I’m tired of scrolling through my Instagram feed, seeing yet another news piece describing the newest legislation targeting the identities and lives of those viewed as “less than.”
It hasn’t even been a full month.
(If I opened my mouth and screamed until my lungs bled, would anyone care to listen?)
I’m not asking for sympathy, nor am I crying crocodile tears. Contributing to white feminism ideology is definitely not on my to-do list. All I’m saying is that because of what I’ve learned in classes, I’m able to see this country going backwards and it’s scary. And tiring.
(I’m literally in a gender studies class. Who knows if that’s going to be around in the near future.)
I’m tired of staring at the ever-growing mountain of baggage I need to sort through. And that baggage’s residual issues. Just looking at it all makes me want to crawl into a hole in Hobbiton and stay there. It’s hard to see past the mess to the good parts of myself. Because lately, I just can’t get anything right. Or at least that’s what my brain tells me. It could be wrong, who knows?
I’m tired of the body that doesn’t listen to me.
I know that she does the best she can with what she’s given, but I can’t help but feel that I drew the short end of the stick when God cast lots. The red scratch marks, greasy hair (mind you, I wash it every day), and oily skin (I have good hygiene, my body just hates me) agree.
So yeah, I’m tired. Honestly there’s a lot more I could write, but we’d be here for a hot minute and I have other things to get done.
The thing is, the world keeps spinning with or without me so I can’t exactly hide under my covers and hope for the best. I have too much to do, too much to see, too much to accomplish (even when I can’t see my hand in front of my face). It’s a sink or swim kind of a ride and I am entirely too stubborn to sink.
*To my therapist, should she see this: You are an absolute dear and I promise I will schedule my appointment soon.
The Student Movement is the official student newspaper of ¶·Å£ÆåÅÆ University. Opinions expressed in the Student Movement are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editors, ¶·Å£ÆåÅÆ University or the Seventh-day Adventist church.