Today, though a day which ended, unfortunately, with work as so many must, was a drastically lazy day and should have been a simple pleasure. I found myself, instead, unwilling to rise from bed, though sleep had been hard to come by. Unwilling to dress once I emerged from the shower, preferring instead to sit still and do nothing. Unwilling. The somethings seem too much.
And I wonder how much of it is a head that weighs an astronomical amount. A head that makes getting out of bed physically more trying than I care to try. A head that is full, sure, metaphorically quite full and busy and, unfortunately, never been quite well or normal, but is also, quite purely and physically heavy. And diseased. Mostly diseased.
Here's the thing. I can't help being sad. Sad in ways that make me think I have felt this way all the time, all my life. Which can't be true. Sad, in ways that make me wonder if I will be like this always. Sad in self aware ways. Ways that don't go away. A black hole.
My head aches.