It’s hard to breathe. The effort it takes to inhale and exhale seems too great. I hardly have the energy even for this automatic chore.
It’s hard to move. It feels as if I’m trudging though molasses with every step of my foot or wave of my arm. My body aches. My muscles, tired and weak, beg me to stop. Sit down and rest, they urge.
I’m trying so hard to keep up with everything you want from me, but I just keep slipping farther and farther behind. I just keep seeing all the ways I’m failing you. All the ways I’m failing me.
Lie down and sleep. Just sleep. Close my eyes and make it all go away. Just for a while. It’s all too much. The weight of the world. Or so it seems.
A simple conversation takes energy I don’t have. I can hardly muster a smile. Laughing is more than I can give.
Daily tasks are monumental. Somedays, clean hair and makeup are too much to ask. I’m ashamed to admit that these things are hard because they seem so simple.
If I just close my eyes, maybe it will all go away. Just for a little while. If I could just make it go away.
I’m supposed to be strong by now. I thought I would be. I hoped I would be. But out of nowhere, the darkness sweeps in and takes my breath away.
And now it’s hard to breathe.