Sleepy and Tired, But Mostly Sleepy

Chronic fatigue syndrome can be confusing at times.

Like most illnesses, probably.

Some days, I feel like I can go to the beach, shop for hours, run in the mountains, and dance with my friends. I feel like I swim hundreds of 500s on those days, too. Others, I feel like I’ve been in a near-fatal accident and I am literally bound to my bed. It’s a toss-up.

Today is one of those near-fatal accident days. My head is tilting forward gradually and my back is curled, begging me to lay my face flat on my desk and just sleep now. I want to go home, slick off all my makeup, put on some clean pajamas, close the blinds, and allow my body to rapidly fall into a coma.

In fact, I just found the nurse’s office, which didn’t have a bed or cot I could lay down in for a little while (damn!) but there was a sort of comfy chair so I sat down there and passed out for like, 25 minutes. And I do feel slightly better.

However, nothing feels better than laying in bed.

I could talk about it for hours.

And I fucking hate it.

I don’t know if anyone ever mentions that there’s a serious drawback of sleeping too much: you rarely, if ever, feel refreshed. So that 7 hour nap you just took on a Saturday afternoon following the regular 9 hours of sleep you got at night? Does you ZERO good. You will still feel like a walking corpse. Or worse: a depressed walking corpse.

I don’t like missing out on what’s going on in the world while I’m sleeping, but the only other alternative is being awake, experiencing whatever thing you’re doing with almost no knowledge of what’s going on, and wishing you were back in bed the entire time.

So, I guess you could say I don’t like being awake. Sleeping is fine. It’s the actual getting out of bed shit that’s frustrating as hell.


















12:41 PM

I woke up, and I was anxious.
I pushed myself
into another world
far beyond my bed
far beyond the aching comforts of my room
far beyond myself
And I was nervous.

Because my brain
Likes to do that.
Likes to indulge
In pain, and crying sadness
That makes me think of people
and makes me wish
I could take care of them
and always hold their bodies
close to my chest
So that I know they’ll be alright.

But my heart knows
That that’s not realistic.
Because I have to let my loved ones live.
Because they too
Have the power
To save themselves
And to think
And to not get into situations where they might die.

And it’s funny, really
Because despite this yearning
To protect ones who can protect themselves
I feel as though
I haven’t the power
To save my own self.

And so endlessly
Night after long, sweet night
I worry
And I wish for safety
From my own head.

Some people I love are going away today,
But I know they aren’t going to be gone long.
I mean that:
They’ll be back in no time.

But I am not going to accept that:
It’s escaped me, the ability to reason.
The ability to think.
It’s left me in the dust.

Because want to go with them;
I want to see the shining sun
On their faces, which I call home
And smell the air from the sea
And visit the orange-haired boy
Whom I love so deeply it hurts
And watch him
Do something he loves.

I want to do that.
I always want to do that.
But I don’t.

“I’ll get too tired,”
I say.
“My workload is far too much.”
Which is true, in this instance.
But it wasn’t like
I was going to do it

A lot of it comes from
my fear of the outdoors,
my fear of discomfort,
my inability to try something new;
My inability to convince myself
To just get up
Just get up, you idiot!
Get up! Stop letting things go past
And stop letting blatant sadness
Get in the way
Of running!

Someday soon, you won’t need anybody
You truly won’t.
And though you love someone
You will never be able to have
Because they’re far
And worlds apart
And they probably
Don’t exist:
You’ll be okay.

Just know: there’s only one way
For you to achieve that.
Stop worrying.

You’re funny.

If only
Worked that way.












Would You Like to Listen?

I haven’t been on here in forever. I’ve got so much to say. Would you like to listen? It’ll be kind of funny, I promise.

I worry too much.

Really, I do. Since the day I was born, I’ve been worrying to some degree. Maybe there’s nothing inherently wrong with always having a low hum of thoughts slowly making their way through your body: down through your aching legs to your toes, and back up to your head, and then swirling around in your abdomen and chest.

I’ve known nothing other than that, but I guess I’m doing just fine, so again… Maybe that’s okay.

It gets in the way, this stream of bullshit. My work doesn’t get done in a timely manner and my head fogs up and I can’t think straight. I wonder if people get annoyed by how much I talk about this fascinating ADD of mine.

BUT, I must talk about things! If I never allow myself to speak, how will I grow? I’m not looking for sympathy. I can handle things on my own, mostly. What I’m looking for is relief and the excitement that comes with processing thoughts and speaking out loud. (Or, in this case, writing things down on the Internet.)

Boy, that was a long introduction. I haven’t written anything longer than a couple of sentences in a while, so I’m testing things out again. Forgive me for the… embellished and redundant nature of this post so far.

Cut the shit, Maggs. Just say what you wanted to say.

So here, folks, from a previously written, but never-published blog post, are the heavily edited, (yet probably mistake-ridden) inner ramblings of my wildly disorganized teenage head:

“HOW am I supposed to be able to hold down a job in the future? I can barely remember to take the medicines that help me sit still for more than 15 minutes and not look like a nervous wreck all the time. Do employers care if you use the bathroom every 45 minutes? I get bored. I like to look at myself in the mirror a lot. Actually, who cares: if you hire me, that probably means you like me, and you can’t get mad at someone you like.

(Shit, it would be awesome if that were true.)

Am I going to learn how to drive? I get mistaken for a college student and I can’t even drive. Does that make me slow? Someone told me once that it’s okay that I’m a “late bloomer.” But upon learning I hadn’t yet received my license and driven myself all over my stupidly manicured city, they revoked their statement and said, ‘Sweetie, that’s really not something you should wait on.’ I had to fight back the urge to punch her in her close-minded little throat.

Can you excuse me for a minute? I need to think.

You know what, lady? I’ll learn when I get there. I’ll finish my work and go to bed. I’ll do whatever it takes to help me get the things done that I need to get done. And I do that already! I tire easily and I could maybe not use the Internet so much for looking at dog pictures and speaking to kindly internet friends, but I get shit done. Maybe not at YOUR pace, but I ignore the hum of thoughts most of the time and accomplish my tasks. Not always on time, but again, it gets done.

Look at that!

I just solved my own problems.

And that, folks, is what happens every 10 minutes in my brain. It’s one thing to the next. One worrisome notion to another, solved.”

Holy shit, that was weird. Welcome back, kiddo.

I’m going to have a good week.














I long for the summertime.

I wait, without patience
For a time when my skin
Is again dark and dirty.

What is more pleasuring
Than warmth
Enveloping one’s entire body
And the trees breathing
The same hot air that you do?

Little – very little.

The sun has left us.
She is gone;
and my body
aches because of this.

What from darkness is made?
Little – very little.

I long for the summertime.


To What Can I Credit These Feelings of Dread?

I know not.

Sometimes, I am the sun. Light radiates from my skin and I am a beautiful girl; not because I am particularly attractive in any way, but because I am filled with vitality. My eyes show others the peace within me; my mind tricks me never.

Other times, I am the moon. Still beautiful, but in a way different than that of the shining sun. I am not always the same. Though I float on my own and have reason to be in the sky, there is a nature about me that is forever uncertain to rationality. I will still find passion in today. Maybe somebody will see me in the afternoon. They will certainly see me at night, sleeping early up in the heavenly sky.

Is there someone else inside of me? I am not 16. I have lived a thousand lives inside my own body and have thought and heard more from my own skull than she who has not yet reached adulthood. Good God, why is it I who must think these things?

I might not ever know. I might not ever know. I might not ever know.

I might not ever know.

But that’s okay, I’ll tell myself.

I think that’s okay.

I will think that things are okay, and eventually I might believe myself in the way that I trust that things are not okay. Today, things are not okay, and that is fine, because I am not always supposed to be okay. I think as long as I am a person of living, breathing flesh, things will be okay.

Did I mention the word ‘okay’?

Been Feeling Sick All Day, Both Mind and Body: Is it My Anxiety?

Over the past few days, I’ve been feeling very strange. Even though I have been exercising, eating, and sleeping regularly and have been continuing to take my medicines and taking care of myself, I have been feeling increasingly more nervous, scared, depressed, and confused.

Being 15 is hard enough. My brain is in the process of a huge growth spurt, my body is growing and changing constantly, and I have tons of things that perplex and terrify me.  Being an already sensitive person doesn’t help that. Having anxiety disorder really doesn’t help my situation, either.

Which is why when I start feeling bigger flare-ups of my anxiety (does it ever really go down?) my sensitivity makes it much worse. I’ll start to wonder why I’m feeling this way, what exactly is causing me this problem, and if there’s something the world is trying to tell me.

It’s so exhausting.

And I think that’s why I’ve been feeling sick lately. I can’t seem to eat too much without feeling ill. My stomach is absolutely turning and I can’t help it. It’s especially annoying because I’d like to eat!

My body hurts and is shaking. My heart is definitely beating harder and faster than normal and my breathing is deeper and more rapid.

And I know all of these things are happening to me. But I feel like I can’t do anything about them. Should I cry? Should I do something drastic, or should I just let it go and understand that sometimes I’m not going to feel great?


Hey, at least I like myself. I think I’m pretty great.