Exhausted musings

If you've never cried out of exhaustion, you've never experienced real hard work. It doesn't need to be physical. It doesn't need to be Herculean. When your head pounds and aches - actually, even your hair aches - you know you've reached a new level of tiredness. You just want to curl up and sleep, in a corner, unnoticed by peers and family. Sleep forever and then some. But when you finally get the chance to lay down in a quiet corner, an incredible urge to disappear takes over. Being still isn't enough anymore: you want to evaporate from Earth's surface.

I was feeling like this.

As I contemplated in the dark this new scenario, I realized that something else was aching. My soul. There was a hollow in my throat and between my gut and my chest. I could no longer feel warm. I had gone numb, something was ripped off me. My taste buds were no longer appreciating this life.

Yes, exhaustion was there. But there was something more, something deeper, more intricate. I could no longer continue like there was nothing wrong with the life I had been leading. I would not do so. My body was too weak to attempt to move then, my head was splitting itself open from sheer pain, and yet I knew that the hollowness I had felt was life telling me something was wrong. And I was going to listen to its call. I needed to. I was going to change.

No one should choose to be unhappy. Grab every chance of smile and laugher. And learn to let go of the things that bring tears to your eyes. To love those isn't enough. Happiness, complete and limitless, that is enough. Love doesn't hold a candle to happiness.