there's a kind of tired

where a free-form ache floats through your body, never quite lands in one spot.

where you're twice as sensitive to cold and noise.

each call to make, each email to send, is a boulder to lift.

you tell yourself: jetlag.

you tell yourself: need to eat better, exercise more.

you tell yourself: no, you can't just give in and go to sleep. you have deadlines and deliverables.


green tea doesn't shake it.

pranayama, asanas, don't lift it.

your limbs go from heavy to disembodied to leaden, and back again.

you make yourself go for a walk, hoping to shake it off. the outrageous material abundance crammed into 100 metres of College Avenue makes you want to cry.