it’s sleeping off one leaden blanket of fatigue for every two that drape themselves over you.
it’s being embarrassed to answer your friends when they ask how you are, because there’s no honest way to say you’re fine, but the truth is so boring.
it’s knowing that every over exertion will cost you a migraine, a nose-bleed, a cold sore, aching joints, mouth ulcers, a stomach ache, a dull mind…
it’s catching every. damn. cold.
it’s asking for favour after favour, and relying on every ounce of goodwill you ever earned.
it’s being full of grief over what you want to be, anxiety over what you have to be, and guilt over what you can’t be.
chronic fatigue is a cocksucker. and today i am really angry about it.