Diary entry: Exhaustion

Today I'm tired.

Not my usual tired, grown from the place in me harbouring more depression than my back can carry.

But also not just the resulting sleepy that comes from a done day of satisfying busyness.

These would take a few days or a few hours to heal and restore.

Today, I'm tired from the place most hidden in my bones, where not even marrow rests a minute from sorrow.

I'm exhausted entirely. The girl in my dreams walks with the same load of heavy as me and it's apparent that I cannot escape reality even for a moment in sleep.

These eyes still sting 20 years after seeing too much. Why a penis was being given to a child to hold as a toy is anyone's guess. It burns as acid and I'm not brave enough for confrontation so I carry the trauma in the bags under my eyes everytime I see him across the street.

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Writer, photographer and coffee enthusiast, weaving worlds into existence, one story at a time | Pronouns: They/Them

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Noma Ntshingila

Writer, photographer and coffee enthusiast, weaving worlds into existence, one story at a time | Pronouns: They/Them