I’m tired of friendly advice to hang in there, try harder, think positive. I have dug my fingernails so deeply into this wretched life, trying to hang on, that my hands are ragged and bloodied and numb. Who are you to reproach me if my strength is failing?
I’m tired of people who expect me to stay sweet and pliant in the midst of suffering. If you’re surprised by a few bitter words from my mouth, then you clearly don’t know me or understand what I’m going through.
I’m tired of sketchy dudes skeeving me out in public, making me feel unsafe (in broad daylight, when I’m covered from neck to knees, and in the company of men, not that any of that should matter). And for that matter, what good is any boy, if he is not a creep deterrent?
I’m tired of living in a tumble-down house with no creature comforts, just endless dust and darkness and oppressive heat and mosquitoes that suck me dry each night.
I’m tired of repeating myself 17 times and still hearing, But how was I supposed to know…?
I’m tired of ignorant people telling me how to deal with my mental illness.
I’m tired of ignorant people giving me unsolicited advice.
I’m tired of ignorant people.
I’m tired of people.
I am tired.