“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion.” - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

I am broken.
All in, beat, bleary, bone-weary, bushed, crippled, dead tired, dead, debilitated, disabled, dog-tired, done for, done in, drained, effete, enervated, frazzled, had it, kaput, limp, out on one's feet, outta gas, prostrated, ready to drop, run-down, sapped, shot, spent, tired out, wasted, weak, weakened, wearied, worn, and worn out.

My body is reacting, making things overdue, making me worried.  They tell me to reduce stress, relax. Chemistry confirms I have nothing to fret about, but I do nonetheless.  I look up procedures, medications, the price of which I taken aback by.  My boyfriend finds the info still displayed brightly, after another all-nighter, me curled up on the living room floor next to it, in another world. Too much, too much to do.  Conflict paper, conflict with papers, and headaches. Sinus headaches combined tension headaches.  Nausea from an empty stomach and post-nasal drip...so much more than you needed to know.  My brain has cut me off.  I can report, blithely, what I see. I can't smile.


I've slipped up. She's noticed and I handled it gracefully. "Not an excuse, but an explanation, perhaps." "Indeed." I don't want it anymore.  I don't want to give in this easily either, though. Fierce, Fierce indigestion. I have so much farther to go.