I just slept like, eight hours. Eight solid hours. My head hit the pillow and BAM, out cold. No weird dreams, no waking up to pee, just... nothing. And I wake up and I’m STILL FUCKING TIRED. Like I haven’t slept in days. My bones ache. My brain feels like static. My eyes burn. What the hell is that? Is this just… it now? This is my life? My body just rejecting rest even when I force it? It’s not like I’m running a marathon. I just… exist. I sit at my desk. I call my mom. I stare at the wall. My kids are gone. The house is so quiet now. Too quiet. Like the silence is pressing down on me, heavy, smothering. I miss the noise. The slamming doors, the stupid rap music, the arguing. Now it’s just… crickets. And me. And his breathing next to me, steady, regular. Like he’s a stranger. We don’t even talk anymore. Not real talk. Just logistics. ‘Did you remember to take out the trash?’ ‘Did you call the plumber?’ ‘Did you remember to call your mother?’ My mother. Oh god. My mother. She’s fine, she’s not… dying or anything. Just… old. And confused. And living three states away. So I spend hours on the phone with her, repeating myself, trying to explain why she can’t just walk to the store in her nightgown. Trying to find someone, ANYONE, to check in on her more than once a week. And it’s always me. Always me making the calls, making the lists, sending the groceries. My sister? Who lives literally twenty minutes away? Oh, she’s too busy. Too busy with what? Her yoga class? Her volunteer work at the animal shelter? Yeah, saving puppies is great, Jen, but your mother is trying to pay her gas bill with monopoly money. And if I don’t handle it, no one will. My brother? Please. He probably thinks she’s already dead. He hasn’t called her in months. But if she falls, if she burns her house down, if she gets scammed out of her life savings, guess who’s getting the call? Me. Every time. I just… I can’t. I don’t have it in me. I’m just so profoundly, deeply TIRED. And it’s not physical. It’s… deeper. Like my soul is worn out. Like someone took a sander to my insides. And I don’t know how to stop. How to make it stop. I just want to lie down and not get up. Ever. Just disappear. I mean I don’t even— whatever. I just want to feel rested. Just once. To wake up and not feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Is that too much to ask? Seriously. What the hell is wrong with me.