I fell asleep on the bus again tonight. Missed my stop. Third time this week. It’s like, what is even wrong with me. I just woke up to the driver calling out some street that was nowhere near my place. Had to walk another mile, cold as hell. It used to be I’d jump awake if a pin dropped. Now I can sleep through anything. Two shifts back to back, every day. Helping Mrs. Henderson get dressed, reminding Mr. Rodriguez about his pills, making sure Mrs. Kim eats her soup. You get so used to being *on* for other people. Giving and giving. And then you get home and there’s just… nothing left. For you. My mom passed in February. It was a long haul. Five years, almost. Dementia. I was the main one. My sister, she’s good for a phone call, but that was about it. My kids are grown, got their own lives. So it was just me and Mom. For so long. I thought I'd feel different when it was over. Lighter, maybe. Relief, yeah, that’s there. But it's mixed with this… emptiness. Like a big hole where she used to be. And where my whole *reason* used to be. The house is so quiet now. Too quiet. I catch myself still listening for her bell. Or her little cough. Even though I know she’s not there. Sometimes I just sit in her old chair, in the dark, and stare at the wall. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. I used to be so good at my job. Really good. My patients loved me. Their families trusted me. I’d be alert, ready for anything. Now I just feel… fuzzy. All the time. Like my brain is coated in something thick. I worry I’m gonna make a mistake. Give someone the wrong medicine. Forget to turn off the stove. What kind of aide falls asleep on the bus home? What if I fell asleep *on the job*? That’s what scares me. TERRIFIES me. It’s not even just the sleep thing. I don't feel like myself. I used to laugh. I used to have opinions. Now I just… exist. Go to work. Come home. Sleep. Repeat. My friends try to call, but what do I even say? "Yeah, I’m good, just fell asleep on the bus again"? No thanks. They wouldn't get it anyway. They all have their busy lives, their grandkids. They're moving *forward*. I feel like I'm stuck. I guess I just thought that once it was over, once Mom was at peace, *I* would be at peace too. But it’s not like that. It’s a different kind of tired. Not just body tired. Soul tired. Is that a thing? Sounds kinda dramatic. But it feels real. Like a deep ache inside that just won't quit. And now I’m back on this bus, in the middle of the night, knowing I gotta walk an extra mile in the cold. Again. And tomorrow morning, it all starts over. Double shift. And I'm already so tired. And who cares, anyway? Who cares if I miss my stop? It’s not like anyone's waiting up for me. No one’s gonna notice if I'm a little late getting home. Or if I don't get home at all. That's a bad thought. I should stop thinking that. I just… I just wish I knew what to do. Or how to feel. Or how to stop feeling like this. I feel like such a mess. And I don’t want to be judged. Not even here. But I had to say something. To someone. Anyone. Even if it's just to the screen. I gotta go. My stop's coming up. The *real* one this time. Hopefully.