It’s 4pm, and the weight of the world has knocked you off your feet and onto the plushy comfort of your living room couch. The drive back is a blur. All you remember is “school was fine” and nibbling half-heartedly on a meatball sub, the sandwich wrapping crinkling beneath your fingers. Lying down on the back seat of the car, head on one side, feet on the other. Toes resting on the window. All you remember is the feeling of the road beneath you, the gentle vibrations the car made as it turned bends and twisted around roundabouts. The feeling of your eyes, as laden as the responsibilities sitting on your shoulders. Shoulders, so heavy. So heavy you’re almost certain there’s someone, something sitting on them, pressing down on you so hard it hurts. All you can think about lying on your couch is how sore your muscles feel from walking too much, or talking too much, saying too much. How your face can finally relax after hours upon hours of speaking, laughing and smiling all day.
“I’m tired” you think- and you are. Maybe that’s why all you want to do is fall into a slumber that lasts all winter. What are you tired of? Perhaps you’re tired of finally having the courage to raise your hand in class, only to have the teacher shut you down while the girl slouching at the back of the classroom snickers at your answer. Tired of trying in PE, because you know your feet stick out when you run and you’re breathless after 10 meters, let alone a kilometer and a half, and no matter how many times someone tells you, you never drop the bat after hitting the ball in T-ball. You’re sick of your friends mocking you and you telling them to stop but laughing at your insecurities is a drug and every time they take a hit laughter escapes their mouths like demons in a pit of fire.
Or maybe you’re tired because you haven’t slept in three days. Maybe the tiredness has just now hit you because you sat at your desk for hours last night. You found out that trying to breathe in information from your textbook like steam will never work because none of it sticks in your head, it just stays hazy in your brain like a layer of fog on a cold night. The tiredness has not only hit you now but yesterday, when you felt dizzy in class and your eyes were wandering and your mind was drifting and your teacher made you stay back for not paying attention. The tiredness was there then, and it was there when you sat under fluorescent lights at 8 in the morning, head in the palms of your hands. Sweater wrapped around you like a blanket. Tiredness was there then.
It’s here now.
So you lie on the couch, brain fuzzy, and dread the moment you have to get up and get back to the reality of all nighters and 6ams, cold pizza for lunch and pencil lead tainting your hands.