Mom, I'm Tired

 Can I sleep in your house tonight?

I fear that I've found myself so tired these days I can hardly bring myself to do anything. I sleep for hours and hours, and I would say that I wake up maybe even more tired. Everything is disinteresting to me; I don't want to do anything, and I won't. Add to that, there's the fear of being surveilled. My father is home today. Everything I do is a performance.

I've been reading up a bit on Oscar Wilde and Bram Stoker. Interesting people in history, in queer history as well. I've never read Dracula, and I hate to say this, but I don't think I ever will. Classics tend to bore me, though I did enjoy Rebecca by Maurier. I wish I had the will and energy to do anything these days. But I don't. So it goes.

I suppose I did write a little yesterday. I wrote a poem about my exhaustion and took a blase tone inspired by some of the Foyle Young Poets award winners. 

When I was little I had
            short brown hair
that fell just to my chin.
I was full of
           energy and light.
I'm tired now.
And I've been
           tired
for so long.
How many milligrams
of this should I take

to have the energy to 
           take it in the first place
I didn't think I would
           feel like this.
I didn't think I wouldn't
           want anything at all.

It's a rather dreary day and I can only assume I will do very little. Much love! ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა