Sleep Isn’t Rest
I sleep, but I’m still tired. Even in dreams, I carry the weight.
Tiredness follows me into the things I love, lurking like a shadow I can’t outrun.
It’s everywhere— like fog under skin, woven through my muscles, humming beneath every breath.
The worst is in class— when my eyes blur, my head nods, and my body begs for stillness I can’t give it.
But I am fine. That’s what I keep saying.
I am fine. Even if I’m not. Even if \"fine\" is just another word for don’t look too close.