Existing is Exhausting.
I’m tired.
And I’m sick of pretending that word is small.
I’m tired of waking up and immediately feeling behind.
Behind in life.
Behind in finance.
Behind in energy.
Behind in everything people say I should have figured out by now.
I’m tired of being strong.
Because strength, apparently, is just code for nobody checking on you properly.
They see you standing and assume you’re okay.
They don’t know you’re standing because you don’t have the luxury to fall.
Life has been wicked lately.
Not loud-wicked.
Not dramatic-wicked.
Just steady, grinding, everyday wickedness that doesn’t leave bruises but leaves you empty.
I’m tired physically, my body is always one step behind me.
Mentally? My brain never shuts up.
Emotionally, I’m drained like someone left the tap open and forgot.
Financially… ha. Let’s not do that.
And the worst part?
I don’t even enjoy things anymore.
Things I used to love now irritate me.
I open apps and close them.
I start conversations and abandon them halfway.
Nothing is exciting. Nothing is comforting.
I’m just here. Existing like background noise.
Nothing “terrible” has happened that I can point to and say this is why.
Life is just… heavy.
Every day.
Relentless.
No pause button. No soft landing.
Even friendship is starting to feel suffocating.
Not because I hate people.
But because everybody wants something, time, energy, laughter, replies.
And I don’t even have enough for myself.
So now I feel bad for needing space.
As if rest is wickedness.
Yesterday, my sister asked if I was okay.
She said I wasn’t looking too good.
But I smiled and said, “I’m fine.”
Because how do you tell someone you’re tired of life without sounding ungrateful, dramatic, or mad?
How do you say, I’m exhausted from living, without them saying,
“Ah ah, how old are you?”
As if tiredness checks birth certificate.
As if life hasn’t been dealing blows indiscriminately.
So I swallowed it.
Like I swallow everything else.
I lie.
I say I’m fine.
I always say I’m fine.
Because Nigerians don’t really know what to do with truth like that.
They’ll either spiritualize it, minimize it, or turn it into a motivational speech I did not ask for.
They’ll say pray.
They’ll say be grateful.
They’ll say others have it worse.
As if pain is a competition and I need to win gold before I’m allowed to rest.
But the truth is, I’m not fine.
I’m surviving.
And even that feels like I’m doing too much.
But listen,
I don’t want to die.
I just don’t want to live like this.
I want rest that is not lazy.
Silence that is not suspicious.
Distance that is not taken personally.
I want life to stop demanding enthusiasm from someone who is barely holding it together.
I’m angry because I’m tired.
I’m bitter because I’ve been strong for too long.
And right now, I don’t want solutions.
I want understanding.
I want quiet.
I want life to leave me alone small.
I’m tired of explaining why I’m tired.
I’m tired of carrying myself with grace when everything in me wants to sit on the floor and cry without being corrected.
And I wish, for once, that was enough explanation.
That’s all.
Thank you my love 😘
I will try taking the walk.
This is the feeling i have been carrying since the month started.
Sighh
Thank you for sharing.