I just… I don't understand it. I slept eight hours last night—a full eight hours, uninterrupted, which for me is practically a miracle given the timezone difference and the constant phone calls about my mother’s medication refills and doctor appointments back home. And yet, I woke up with this pervasive, almost somatic fatigue, like every cell in my body is resisting the simple act of existing. It’s not just tiredness; it feels like a profound, existential drain, despite having supposedly recharged. We talk about sleep debt, about burnout, but what about this residual exhaustion that lingers, a phantom limb of weariness, even when the physiological requirements have been met? It’s almost like a form of chronic anhedonia, only for basic bodily function. I just want to feel rested. Truly rested.