Fatigue, ironically, is all I feel when I first awake every morning. Weariness, tiredness, soreness. My eyes need to be rubbed a few times to remove the denial of my reality – yet another night without proper rest. I do not know how I will handle this once semester starts, I am a ticking time bomb.
I’m tired. So tired I could curl up and sleep the next week away. But I have to go to work, I have to see my mom, I have to spend time with this person and that person, and I’m tired of all of them. Not a fatigue of the mind but a fatigue of the soul. I’m slouchy I’m annoyed, I’m truly and utterly lost in my capacity to care anymore. Everything burns and itches and it all wants to curl up and sleep with me, trapped in the recesses of silence.
fatigue, i have fatigue, if you are french you are never fatigued you only have it as though you can give it away, as though you can toss it to the wind, i love that i love the impermanence the ease. because i am fatigued of being fatigued
One day there was an elderly woman and she was always fatigued. She couldn’t dress herself, she couldn’t feed herself, and she couldn’t go out and feed the birds. She had to have her loving grandson help her, until one day, she became so fatigued, she couldn’t even wake up.
im so tired this is exhausting, all i want is to go to bed and i need a place to sleep. fatigue reminds me of my ninten-dogs whom i would take care of on the DS and when i would leave for a while, they’d get fatigued, a new vocab word for my 11 year old self. this is stressing me out, I’m fatigued….ugh, i need water.
im so tired. tired as a dog stuck in a car on a hot day. someone bring me coffeee, please befroe I perish. I would be so nice to sleep, on a cloud. or really to sleep any
The syllables drag out as you speak, the end dropping off in an exhausted exhale. It’s the kind of word that sounds like it’s been beaten and dragged through the dirt before it even comes out of your mouth.
undeniable?
coincidence, fate that this word should come out?
I am dead tired and ready to fall to the floor, but I won’t. I won’t because I am much too supported, much too loved, and much too trusted to do what I must.
I will not fail you.
I will die before I fail, and I will only allow myself rest and sleep when I finish.
i don’t know that word means but it’s interesting.. I think it’s something about the fate and the future . What do you think my friend.Bob told me lots ot things about the fate..
i was to old I thought to be there , 46 , out of work so ,now going to lug golf bags around the course for rich folks.. but when i arrived I saw I was of average age… I thought i would die on the way home of exhaustion..
out of work for months.. laying on the couch staring at the televsion, watching the sunlight slowly drifting across the room. I tried to fall asleep as often as possible to make the time go by faster .. but I knew I would keep waking up all through the night. I wished I had not quit smoking before all this had started…I needed and outlet. but I did not want to go through that detoxing again. I was just damn tired of all this… I really thought it was the end so why not fucking smoke…I didn’t but looking back I don’t know why… i don’t know why I did not shoot myself either .. .
The fatigue in the teacher was too much to bear. She was fatigued because of her job. She was fatigued about her students. She was fatigued about her life. She knew this feeling would not go away if she didn’t do something soon. She braced herself and pulled the trigger.
I’m wondering what this word means. I really don’t know. Perhaps it’s a new word for cats. I like cats, I really like cats. I might just end up as a weird cat lady. Or is it called crazy cat lady?
Who knows fatigue now? I have been on my couch for the last 2 days. Just had a hernia operation and haven’t mooved! Pains pills are kinda weak so i had to double up to feel better. can’t want to go outside again…
He slowed down his pace to a slow jog, panting, ant then completely stopped accepting defeat, his hands on his knees, breathing hard, fatigue clear on his face. He grimaced, realizing that Jean was a good ten meters ahed, still running, apparently not tired at all. Accepting to accompany her in her morning jog had clearly been his first mistake of the day. But, unfortunately, not the last.
I’m not tired right now but i’m exhausted. I’m running around trying to do everything that will make me happy. Balance is life’s constant battle. Moderation is life’s hardest challenge but it won’t beat me. I’m going to over come this challenge. Just like I do with everything else.
Everyday i fight what i cant stop, fatigue. I go to bed earlier, i get massages, i work out, i changed my diet, and the doctors keep telling me im doing so much better than 6 months ago but i still find my self crying because it wont go away..its killing me and i only think its getting worse with age…
I am so fucking tired of all this shit. It drives me nut. I can’t even think properly because my eye lids are just falling over and over again and I can’t even concentrate on these beautiful things in front of me. You’ve got the colors and the noise that combine to create a beautiful world but my eyes are shutting on it all because I can’t deal with any of this party bullshit anymore.
What I feel right now. What I feel after a long day waiting for you to come home, waiting for your touch…what I feel after battling down my paranoia and all my fear. What I feel after crying on your shoulder. What I feel living with myself.
I was exhausted. Days, and days, and hours upon hours of hiding myself. To say I was fatigued would be the understatement of the century. How much more would my lost soul take? How much more could my broken body stand? When would I find the strength to go on?
I was tired.
My heart was racing. I was too exhausted to even think. I could feel my pulse beating against my neck, and the sweat plastering my hair to my forehead. I couldn’t think of anything else put the searing pain in my stomach.
Tired, drawn out, unable to move. Something in a video game that allows you to move faster, withstand enemy attacks. How I feel after walking two miles up hill after a tiring day of school.
I hate being tired all the time. Every moment of my life–every second of every day–I am tired. Even when I wake up from a great night’s rest, I’m still tired the second I get out of bed. Why must I be chronically fatigued? How can one live life this way? My tiredness is consuming.
I’m locked in this body, in this head that is spinning
Heart pounding away at its walls, slowly thinning.
Trapped in a bottle, drunk on memories and dreams
Poisoned by wishes tearing me apart at the seams.
I saw the movie “Side Effects” last night. I liked it, until I realized that Rooney Mara was acting as someone ACTING depressed. And fooling everyone exquisitely. That was when it lost me. Being depressed is not something you can just be. It’s something you are. The fatigue and listlessness absorbs your whole life. Waxing and waning, sure. But it’s very real. I don’t know why I felt the need to represent Prozac nation in this non-committal sense, but there it is.
There was something exhausting about the constant hunger, the starvation that ravaged not only his body but his mind. That voice– he could hear that voice in the back of his head, even when he wasn’t speaking, and it plagued his waking thoughts and drove all others away. It wore him down, the constant fighting, and his soul suffered for it.
Fatigue is a work that’s described as being tired. It’s when the world asks a lot of you. It is when you have given everything you can to a cause, to work, to family, to church, and now you just want the world to slow down a little bit. You are tired; you are exhausted. You just want to sit for a while.
But as fatigue set in, cracks began to appear in his mask. He could still crinkle his eyes when he smiled to make them look authentic, but he could not hide the whiteness of his face and the dark circles under his eyes. The monster was like a cancer, eating him slowly from the inside. It could be seen in the way his laugh became more and more hollow as the weeks dragged on. In the way he stopped wearing short-sleeved shirts. In the way he tore his receipts into shreds. In the way he spent hours at the gym, working out to the point of collapsing. In the way his foot became heavier and heavier on his car’s accelerator, almost daring something to jump in the way. But only a few saw the warnings, and even fewer did anything about it. They turned a blind eye, right up until the moment he put a bullet in his mouth.
She’s just so tired. There’s weight on her eyes, strains in her limbs, and if she just tries to move, she’s not sure if it’s her wobbling legs or the immediate daze of her head that brings her back down to the floor.
I really can’t stand the way that that bastard drains me o every ounce of engery I’ve had all day. I feel like I’m constantly waiting for him to just hurry the fuck up and all I do is wait for him- I’ve never felt so tired of waiting in my life. I feel like I’m permanently stuck in a trews song.
I don’t know a damn thing.
I’m so tired and so lost.
I am frigid and terrified
and I make bad choices to hide these things.
I just want you to tell me you love me
One time.
Fatigue, ironically, is all I feel when I first awake every morning. Weariness, tiredness, soreness. My eyes need to be rubbed a few times to remove the denial of my reality – yet another night without proper rest. I do not know how I will handle this once semester starts, I am a ticking time bomb.
I’m tired. So tired I could curl up and sleep the next week away. But I have to go to work, I have to see my mom, I have to spend time with this person and that person, and I’m tired of all of them. Not a fatigue of the mind but a fatigue of the soul. I’m slouchy I’m annoyed, I’m truly and utterly lost in my capacity to care anymore. Everything burns and itches and it all wants to curl up and sleep with me, trapped in the recesses of silence.
fatigue, i have fatigue, if you are french you are never fatigued you only have it as though you can give it away, as though you can toss it to the wind, i love that i love the impermanence the ease. because i am fatigued of being fatigued
tired, too tired to sleep
listening to the radio trying not to weep
i can’t, break down too late,
once it starts i can’t escape
One day there was an elderly woman and she was always fatigued. She couldn’t dress herself, she couldn’t feed herself, and she couldn’t go out and feed the birds. She had to have her loving grandson help her, until one day, she became so fatigued, she couldn’t even wake up.
im so tired this is exhausting, all i want is to go to bed and i need a place to sleep. fatigue reminds me of my ninten-dogs whom i would take care of on the DS and when i would leave for a while, they’d get fatigued, a new vocab word for my 11 year old self. this is stressing me out, I’m fatigued….ugh, i need water.
I got so fatigued after working out. I spent 2 hours in the gym today. Maybe tomorrow I need to take the day off and rest my bones. I think I will.
im so tired. tired as a dog stuck in a car on a hot day. someone bring me coffeee, please befroe I perish. I would be so nice to sleep, on a cloud. or really to sleep any
It’s funny because the very word sounds tired.
Fatigue.
The syllables drag out as you speak, the end dropping off in an exhausted exhale. It’s the kind of word that sounds like it’s been beaten and dragged through the dirt before it even comes out of your mouth.
What did you think was going to happen?
undeniable?
coincidence, fate that this word should come out?
I am dead tired and ready to fall to the floor, but I won’t. I won’t because I am much too supported, much too loved, and much too trusted to do what I must.
I will not fail you.
I will die before I fail, and I will only allow myself rest and sleep when I finish.
i don’t know that word means but it’s interesting.. I think it’s something about the fate and the future . What do you think my friend.Bob told me lots ot things about the fate..
that feeling when you just dont
dont move
dont go
dont speak, they talk to you and you stare… just look
im tired
i was to old I thought to be there , 46 , out of work so ,now going to lug golf bags around the course for rich folks.. but when i arrived I saw I was of average age… I thought i would die on the way home of exhaustion..
out of work for months.. laying on the couch staring at the televsion, watching the sunlight slowly drifting across the room. I tried to fall asleep as often as possible to make the time go by faster .. but I knew I would keep waking up all through the night. I wished I had not quit smoking before all this had started…I needed and outlet. but I did not want to go through that detoxing again. I was just damn tired of all this… I really thought it was the end so why not fucking smoke…I didn’t but looking back I don’t know why… i don’t know why I did not shoot myself either .. .
The fatigue in the teacher was too much to bear. She was fatigued because of her job. She was fatigued about her students. She was fatigued about her life. She knew this feeling would not go away if she didn’t do something soon. She braced herself and pulled the trigger.
I’m wondering what this word means. I really don’t know. Perhaps it’s a new word for cats. I like cats, I really like cats. I might just end up as a weird cat lady. Or is it called crazy cat lady?
The feel one has after giving their absolute best and not given up until the job is done.
Who knows fatigue now? I have been on my couch for the last 2 days. Just had a hernia operation and haven’t mooved! Pains pills are kinda weak so i had to double up to feel better. can’t want to go outside again…
He slowed down his pace to a slow jog, panting, ant then completely stopped accepting defeat, his hands on his knees, breathing hard, fatigue clear on his face. He grimaced, realizing that Jean was a good ten meters ahed, still running, apparently not tired at all. Accepting to accompany her in her morning jog had clearly been his first mistake of the day. But, unfortunately, not the last.
I’m not tired right now but i’m exhausted. I’m running around trying to do everything that will make me happy. Balance is life’s constant battle. Moderation is life’s hardest challenge but it won’t beat me. I’m going to over come this challenge. Just like I do with everything else.
The last two days I’ve come home and felt pure fatigue. But it felt good to know my body could get so tired and then rest and feel brand new.
Everyday i fight what i cant stop, fatigue. I go to bed earlier, i get massages, i work out, i changed my diet, and the doctors keep telling me im doing so much better than 6 months ago but i still find my self crying because it wont go away..its killing me and i only think its getting worse with age…
I am so fucking tired of all this shit. It drives me nut. I can’t even think properly because my eye lids are just falling over and over again and I can’t even concentrate on these beautiful things in front of me. You’ve got the colors and the noise that combine to create a beautiful world but my eyes are shutting on it all because I can’t deal with any of this party bullshit anymore.
What I feel right now. What I feel after a long day waiting for you to come home, waiting for your touch…what I feel after battling down my paranoia and all my fear. What I feel after crying on your shoulder. What I feel living with myself.
I was exhausted. Days, and days, and hours upon hours of hiding myself. To say I was fatigued would be the understatement of the century. How much more would my lost soul take? How much more could my broken body stand? When would I find the strength to go on?
a fat girl who looks like a sloth or a fat female animal. it also could be you eating so much your becoming fatigue.
I was tired.
My heart was racing. I was too exhausted to even think. I could feel my pulse beating against my neck, and the sweat plastering my hair to my forehead. I couldn’t think of anything else put the searing pain in my stomach.
Tired, drawn out, unable to move. Something in a video game that allows you to move faster, withstand enemy attacks. How I feel after walking two miles up hill after a tiring day of school.
I hate being tired all the time. Every moment of my life–every second of every day–I am tired. Even when I wake up from a great night’s rest, I’m still tired the second I get out of bed. Why must I be chronically fatigued? How can one live life this way? My tiredness is consuming.
I’m locked in this body, in this head that is spinning
Heart pounding away at its walls, slowly thinning.
Trapped in a bottle, drunk on memories and dreams
Poisoned by wishes tearing me apart at the seams.
I saw the movie “Side Effects” last night. I liked it, until I realized that Rooney Mara was acting as someone ACTING depressed. And fooling everyone exquisitely. That was when it lost me. Being depressed is not something you can just be. It’s something you are. The fatigue and listlessness absorbs your whole life. Waxing and waning, sure. But it’s very real. I don’t know why I felt the need to represent Prozac nation in this non-committal sense, but there it is.
There was something exhausting about the constant hunger, the starvation that ravaged not only his body but his mind. That voice– he could hear that voice in the back of his head, even when he wasn’t speaking, and it plagued his waking thoughts and drove all others away. It wore him down, the constant fighting, and his soul suffered for it.
fatigue fills the air,
i can only breathe in the exhaust.
everything to do and everywhere to be
and the only way to manage it all
is to inhale deep.
Fatigue is a work that’s described as being tired. It’s when the world asks a lot of you. It is when you have given everything you can to a cause, to work, to family, to church, and now you just want the world to slow down a little bit. You are tired; you are exhausted. You just want to sit for a while.
But as fatigue set in, cracks began to appear in his mask. He could still crinkle his eyes when he smiled to make them look authentic, but he could not hide the whiteness of his face and the dark circles under his eyes. The monster was like a cancer, eating him slowly from the inside. It could be seen in the way his laugh became more and more hollow as the weeks dragged on. In the way he stopped wearing short-sleeved shirts. In the way he tore his receipts into shreds. In the way he spent hours at the gym, working out to the point of collapsing. In the way his foot became heavier and heavier on his car’s accelerator, almost daring something to jump in the way. But only a few saw the warnings, and even fewer did anything about it. They turned a blind eye, right up until the moment he put a bullet in his mouth.
She’s just so tired. There’s weight on her eyes, strains in her limbs, and if she just tries to move, she’s not sure if it’s her wobbling legs or the immediate daze of her head that brings her back down to the floor.
Since hypothyroidism, my life is fatigue. Too fatigued to go on. The end.
I really can’t stand the way that that bastard drains me o every ounce of engery I’ve had all day. I feel like I’m constantly waiting for him to just hurry the fuck up and all I do is wait for him- I’ve never felt so tired of waiting in my life. I feel like I’m permanently stuck in a trews song.
I don’t know a damn thing.
I’m so tired and so lost.
I am frigid and terrified
and I make bad choices to hide these things.
I just want you to tell me you love me
One time.