Going through the motions of living
is exhausting
Smiling, laughing, sleeping,
eating, working out
Cooking, gardening,
walking, talking everything
Is exhausting.
We pretend to be busy
We pretend to be fine
We pretend life is okay
We pretend we are
having a good time
But
It is so exhausting.
I don’t remember a time
When I was not exhausted
I don’t know when it happened
This poem is supposed to rhyme
But see what has happened.
The mind knows
Even when the body tries to fool it
The cold logic trumps the burning emotions
However, much we try to fool our selves
We know.
But do we have an option?
Some way to avoid the pain
Anything to forget the hurt
Everything we do is in vain.
One day, we find ourselves
walking in the rain
It is exhausting
It is so exhausting.
Not walking in the rain
But,
Trying to outrun our pain
It is exhausting
It is so exhausting.
Hugs, Sulekha. I feel you.
Thanks
This aches with honesty, that quiet, relentless fatigue of holding it all together while trying to outrun what hurts inside. You’ve captured a feeling most people bury and reading this felt like finally acknowledging it.
Shilpa, thanks for your beautiful comment.
This the reality many of us who have crossed a certain age are acknowledging. It felt as though you were expressing my thoughts. Everything seems like a huge effort these days, and yes, it does get exhausting.