Fatigue

I know you're tired. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Are you breathing? Good. Now think. No no, not about them. Think. You're the only one that matters now. It's just us. Just me. Just you. It doesn't matter that they think we're deranged. We are. You and I, we are completely and utterly demented. You know how I know? We're still sane. Just think about it. No listen, think about it, even after all the mayhem, the total mania of being through what we have been through, we can still get up and act like functioning humans. Are you still breathing? Perfect. Can you feel the throb, it's almost like it's not there then you twitch and it comes stabbing you back. Surprisingly, it's not discomforting, is it? I mean I know it looks that way but it's not. But that doesn't matter when it's me and you. We're here, forget them. Breathe. Go to that place in our mind, where the vacancy is comforting. It's desolate. Often abandoned. Makes you feel better, doesn't it? Now wait. I know it's slow, lesions often are but the best thing about them is that the soreness lingers. Come on then, relax and close your eyes. Breathe. Let's make a memory.