Tired

Tired is a word far too often used. It's a worn article layered under a dark exoskeleton to later be expelled, to be used and exploited. It's an abused escape route when reality seems a little too real, when the truth is too harsh, and when anxiety seems far too taunting to approach. Right now I'm actually tired, in the realist and most true sense of it's meaning; for the first time in a long time. I am not 'tired' to cover up my anger, nor to hide my intimate confusions and jealousy from the every-mans' eye. Today I am sore in my muscles,bones, and almost certainly in every tissue type in-between. Mentally strained though it seems so utterly pitiful to admit, emotionally drained, and possibly in need of a good nights sleep. Beyond the skin of this matter let me delve deeper within this statement to the meat of it all. Possibly dive deep enough to be immersed within me, down into the crux of darkness where my thoughts lay. Today I am tired of producing nothing. Tired of my self image: my severely flawed physique, my wrecked reputation and my self worth or lack thereof. I'm tired of my inability to be worthwhile enough to be loved by someone, tired of the simple things, but most of all tired that I can't, won't, or I'm incapable of not being so tired all the time