18.02.23 The Weight

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I’m exhausted. Not necessarily tired. Exhausted. There’s a difference, I think. I am tired after a long difficult day maybe, it’s temporary. That’s different. I am defining exhaustion here as tired, but on a much, much larger scale. Sometimes I fear a lifetime scale. Sometimes I call it The Weight. Sometimes you can get used to an amount of fatigue, and not everyone experiences The Weight. Many people don’t, but I think I know others that may. I can feel myself getting crushed. I’m trapped under the wheels of a machine I didn’t want to be a part of in the first place. Sometimes I wake up and I don’t notice it, most days I do. Maybe everyone else just shoves it out of their minds. I don’t know. Maybe everyone just deals with it by sinking it into relationships and into substances. What waits for me after this? I shouldn’t entertain the thoughts. I can feel them, at the edges of my vision. I can hear their whispers.
It feels like maybe everyone just ignores The Weight. I don’t know how. I can see the seams. Can other people not? I’m exhausted. I’m tired of jobs. I’m tired of advertising. I’m tired of news. I’m tired of not being able to even get the help I probably need in the first place. I’m tired of not being able to help others. I’m tired of living here. I’m too tired to go anywhere else. I’m too tired to sleep. Too tired to rest. I’m tired of the threats. I’m tired of the expectations. Of the future. Of the past. I just want quiet, just enough time to catch my breath. Do you know, I just thought of this, if you were in a hospital and the TV was on that you’d still be getting advertised stuff? That’s so fucked. I think I’d lose it. Like imagine I was trying to feel better and can’t do much other than watch TV and some fucker keeps trying to sell me shit. I couldn’t use 90% of it, I’m in the hospital. Why do you think your advertising is gonna make me buy whatever you’re trying to sell me? I’ve worked in retail, I despise selling things to people. Why, why, why?! I don’t understand. And what can I do other than rot. It’s what they want. Whatever they fits the bill.
Did you know I had a nightmare about getting pulled over for running a red light last night? Not any red light either, I know the exact one. I’ve been through that light probably 500 times. My dreams don’t make sense anymore. They used too. Now it’s just my past coming back to torture me. I don’t think I’m a very likeable person. I’ve tried to fix that in the past, but I just don’t care. Why should I. I’m just glowering at my aloe plant now. It didn’t do anything wrong. It’s actually doing quite well. It’s gotten really big. I wonder if this is just what it feels like to go insane. Not the comment about the aloe, all the other stuff. Maybe this is what the fall really feels like.
I feel like I’m out of focus. Or like you know in Star Trek, when they can’t get a transporter lock on somebody and they’re like stuck? Like flickering between the last place and the next. That’s what it’s like. I’m trapped in the data buffer. Maybe the place I’m from is the way I was thinking and the way I viewed the world growing up, the way most of my family sees it. Maybe I’m trying to get to where I feel like I should be. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with me at all and this is just what living in this world does to people.
What is wrong with me.