Tired- A Rant/Poem (Forgive Me For The Language, Dear Friends)

I'm sorry, I understand life can be very "tiresome".

It can be taxing. 

Leave you rasping for air sometimes... 

I'm taking 18 hours of classes at the moment, and when I wasn't injured and still in rugby practicing every night or working out 2-3 hours daily, I felt pretty worn out... 

But I pray you never get so loopy in the endlessness of day to day happenings that you ever make the mistake of using the excuse of "I'm tired" in my vicinity. Because I sure as hell never do. 

Why? 

Because fuck excuses, and fuck being tired. 

Being tired to me is just a condition, a fact, but never an excuse. While for others it's a screaming declaration of submission for me it is nothing more than an obstacle. It's just who I am and how I was raised.

My parents might still be together but I use the term "together" loosely- they're like two shoes tied in a knot but walking in different directions through muddy gardens, and had the good fortune of making it out of the hood to middle-class suburbia like refugees.. But I played two sports, was responsible for 30 kids through different high school outreaches, had a full schedule, and truly more objectively troubled than I, drug addict friends and all the while was caught in the middle of my parents dying marriage and lack of a connection with my father that I'm to this day trying to build and sifting through the lies of my mother that to this day I'm still discovering and faced rejections, shortcomings and ill-fated tragedies just like everybody else and still found it within me to make time for sharing love with those around me... Pft. And I'm a piece of shit. 

And you know guys, I realize I sound a bit wild and hysterical for being so bent out of shape about people being tired. But just hear me out...

I dated a girl for some time in high school, and she was sweet, kind, blah, blah, blah, a first love I will never forget. I'll always have a shining image of her locked away somewhere in the file cabinet or memento drawer of my heart. But along with that, I will never forget the way she made me feel- which most of the time was great, but almost weekly, fucking pissed. I can't tell you how many times I felt flames burn from behind my eyes from all of the excuses. All because she was "too tired". 

It takes a lot to really get me going. Call me a names or make fun of my bowed legs that, I agree, look weird as shit. Step on my cats tail or sideswipe my car- and I will not blow up on you. But for some reason... this one simple phrase just irks me. Grinds my gears. Jostles my jimmies. Ruffles my feathers. Even chaps my ass, if you will. 

-*Beep* Hey can you hang out? My mom bailed again, my dad is over-clocking himself at work to keep his mind off of all his numbness and my brothers wouldn't notice their world, our world is crumbling until the rubble came crashing into their heads the blood from the cut ran into their eyes thick and slow and I just need somebody to let me feel heard. Call me back when you can.

*text message comes in*

-I'm so sorry, I really am, but I'm really tired and you know I don't like phone calls they make me uncomfortable and...

-I stopped reading because fuck that excuse. Because that's what it was, not a reason, but an excuse. Excuse me for having tangible, pressing problems and excuse me for not having any allot-able fucks for your excuse. Not that my sanity was ever her responsibility- but I've decided at this point in my life I'd rather you fucking make something up than tell me you're too tired to share some words with me now because you've procrastinated for two hours watching Breakfast at Tiffany's the millionth damn time and had to "labor" through an optional extra-credit assignment for a class you rave about... I inhaled, and I exhaled. And I swallowed back the resentment that tasted spicy, hot and sweet back into the container, sealed tight under patience. But I could not stomach too much more. Bile acidic and kicking at my insides wanting nothing more than bitter birth. 

-Hey, you're drifting on me and I'm sorry that I've been sort of distant but you have to understand I just found out one friend killed himself a few months ago because in all my brother's "like father like son" numbness he over-clocked himself to avoid feeling it and never got around to telling me, and that girl I was finally beginning to become friends with again just got into that fatal car wreck two hours ago, and I got into a car crash just last week because my brakes failed, and you said you were too tired to talk about it then, but can we talk about it now? My mom is here but she's still gone mentally essentially a puppet lacking guiding hands, my dad no different, and I feel so incredibly empty because I would've been readily able to accept death and be okay with things as they are while she always feared it and it just kills me. And I don't need you to sit here and make me complete because I can only do that, I would just like it if we could both sit on this fleshy ledge in my chest with our feet dangling and swinging into the pit of black between my ribs and acknowledge that the pit exists... Let the words we share echo down and bounce off of the walls, and if there is a bottom, hear whatever resonates back to us.

But of course, here came those magical words.

-"I'm sorry, I really am, but I'm

Just.

Too.

Tired. 

Her words turned the placid home in my mind, my quite place, into a hell-hole. The little fish that swam calmly in its bowl on the counter grew to ten times its size, gained feet the size of lions, paws the size of bears, claws the size of hippos, fangs the size of elephants and fucked my shit up. Leveled my pin-cushion and hanging-beads-in-door-frame patience. So at once, the vile darkness spilled over and the words shot projectile out my throat-

Fuck.

You. 

Tired? You're too fucking tired? 

I was never too tired to stay up late reading and re-reading and re-re-re-reading our conversations when I'd finally, rasping for air earned the privilege of finding another reason to love you. 

I was never too tired to listen to you complain about that stupid-ass flavor of Christmas edition Dr.Pepper being sold out the one time I finally convinced you that phone conversations weren't so scary
Not to mention I'll just put this out there, that flavor doesn't taste any different from the original shit.

I was never too tired to bike 5 miles to your house with torn ligaments in my knee, traces of a concussion in my head, a cut ON MY FUCKING EYEBALL and a broken toe to give you a graduation gift in the pouring rain with swolen eye up some big ass hills. 

I wasn't too tired to in one of the darkest times of my life buy books for that girl in my shitty speech class because only in living those fictitious lives did she no longer find the time to "cat-scratch" her wrists, or write an anonymous note to that same girl about her self-harming habits I and only I seemed to notice, and give it to her counselors and alert them of her condition, and make sure she didn't go home that day without knowing somebody somewhere out there one day finally truly saw her. To be honest, less out of saintly altruism, I wrote it because I knew nobody else would. I'm still a shitty person. But the point is, I still at the end of the day wrote that fucking note. I donated that portion of my life to somebody other than myself.  

You my friend, have all of your old age to be tired and sleep and waste away. You get to enjoy all the solitude that life can offer once your spouse leaves and your kids don't quite visit like they say they will. But right here, right now, live your fucking life. Friends, live your fucking lives. 

I'm not objectively worth too much, I think I have -$20k to my name, and I'm many things including a piece of shit- but even shit has value. It grows corn and shit. Walk all over me you might, but where I lie gardeners plant and flowers grow. I'm many things... But one thing I AM NOT is a quitter. One thing I DO NOT DO is give up. Not on people, not on life, not on myself.

And neither should you...

So if you don't have time for me or something, say something, everything, anything... But just don't say you're too tired for me...

Don't give up on me.