Tired - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
There's a certain level of tiredness that equates to insanity; for me it's when I'd like to temporarily dislocate my spirit from my body, as if I could ask God to take me out for just a short while, let my soul go wherever souls go to be zen. I'm a fairly brave person, I am, but sometimes I just don't wanna feel the process of recovery all over again. I know I'll wake up feeling okay in the morning, it's simply a level of worn-out-ness that hurts.
"If you're making decisions while tired, you're basically 'drunk driving' your life. So sleep, rest and decide nothing until you feel okay. That's really the best advice I can give you."
Shutter the windows and calm the dog, let the candle flames extinguish, for the sleepiness has arrived as the most inviting of blankets. Let the clocks move their hands no more, so I may float into these forever dreams. And let me rest in such blessed quiet until such a time as the sun is high in the sky and it would be so rude to sleep rather than see its beauty.
My brain is on five percent battery, so if y'all don't mind, I'm gonna take some time to rest and soak in the calm peace of nature. This stuff, this caring, is vast yet finite, freely given yet at a cost to me... and I'm tired... so very, very, tired.
There's a kind of tired that needs a good night's sleep, and another that needs so much more. For me, one became the other, starting out as the "one night kind" until one day it was ever present - like it once was a heavy jacket but became heavy bones. It was then I knew that being tired could be a wearing of the emotions too, that it can come together with a tired body, and become an ingrained part of a life that isn't lived, but survived, endured. I wasn't born for that and neither were you. We didn't come to be on a planet of such beauty and abundance to live like this, so drained, stressed, too thin to cope with life's storms and help others with theirs. When is the time for dancing, for play, laughter and long evenings of happy chatter? Because that is the medicine we all need: fun, friendship, good times. Perhaps most people are too tired to think of how to change these busy lives we lead, but me, I can't think of anything I'd rather spend my last ounces of energy on. In fact, hell, I'm willing to go into the red.
There are days the tiredness comes in both forms, physical and mental. My body needs to rest yet my mind needs it to move, to burn the anxiety right out. Without exercise my mind will keep me up all night long, without rest my body will spiral into exhaustion. I once thought my old man weak for falling into the grog like he did, and though I won't go the same way, forgiveness is coming easier than it once did.
Amy slumped in her favourite armchair and threw her badge on the table. There was something so great about home after the testosterone filled office. Her gun pressed into her leg and she reached to bring it out, lay it on the table too, next to the white orchid her mother had brought over last Tuesday. Her eyes settled on it for a moment. Beautiful. Fragile. Perhaps she should take it to work, it would be nice to have it there. She was senior now, the other agents could scoff all they want. Her body washed cold as she felt the pager buzz in her blazer pocket. That meant another homicide to deal with instead of a warm bed and soft duvet. Couldn't the fine folks of the city quit killing each other for a night? After a quick call in she was in her still warm car, cruising down-town to the scene.
"You mistake my calm for a readiness to take on more, to deal with more. Perhaps once it was. Not anymore. Now it is only exhaustion, quiet and subdued, always hoping for a respite from your storms."
He was sitting bleary-eyed and unshaven at the table, munching his way slowly through a mouthful of cereal. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, he stopped munching. His jaw went slack. Milk dribbled out of his mouth. His eyes glazed over blankly and his head nodded forward.
Next thing - whomp!- his head landed right smack in the bowl in front of him.
Every night is a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts. I don't want to sleep, not yet. I just spent fourteen hours working and I'm not ready to wake in the morning to rinse and repeat. My second voice chastises me, the longer I lie in that bed the more chance of sleep I have and the better tomorrow will be. But I know that between now and the return of daylight are my zombie hours- when I am mostly awake but dozing in fitful spurts. Six hours will feel like sixty yet I'll rise as if it was less than ten minutes of down time, just as exhausted as I am now. Then I'll put on the wrong clothes, leave the milk on the counter and realize my car keys are missing. I can't be the only one with this sleeplessness. I wonder if humans have always been this way or if it's part of the price we pay for our modern lifestyles. Either way it sucks; "tired until I retire," now there's a slogan to see me through the next two decades.
he sat, tired-eyed, and slumped over his desk
I was tired as hell, weary with the burden of long-closed eyes; I could of easily pulled off being a walking zombie, dead on the inside but subconsciously awake.
He paused as we approached him and scowled at us. He was unshaven and unwashed. His fly was undone, and all his shirt-buttons had been done up in the wrong holes.
I feel as though energy is being constantly drained out of me, as though I'm leaking electricity.
Exhausted, too tired to eat, over-tired, fell asleep in an instant, fell asleep on the bus, can't concentrate, need to veg-out, sleep deprived, feel like a zombie, dog-tired, can't move a muscle, fatigued, blood-shot eyes.
My tiredness makes me hang limp like wet laundry on a cold still day. I feel like every muscle is giving into gravity. What I want is sleep, a nice warm bed and a solid night of dreams. But my OCD won't let me. I can't have chaos outside and chaos in here too. My hair accessories are scattered over the dresser and my paperwork has sprawled over the easy chair. I should put them away the first time, try to stick to my resolutions. I want to wake up to a clean house and so I set about putting things right. Tomorrow I have nothing to do but enjoy the day, sitting at the window with a good book.
"Tired?" I smiled at Nyx, who jerks awake with a start, and stares weirdly at me.
"No, I'm fine." He mutters, rubbing his eyes fiercely.
"Your lying." I poke his arm lightly.
"Don't do that." He moves my arm away from his and stares blankly at the wall in front of us.
"Not fine my butt," I mutter, which earned a glare from his side of the room.
"I don't need sleep."
"Vampires need sleep too." I protest, holding him tightly to my chest. I started rubbing his back rhythmically, as he tried to move from my grasp. "Go to sleep!" I kept smiling at his annoyed expression.
Every night I tried to fall asleep straight away at ten p.m. but it t was next to impossible. My head was filled with several thoughts and "what ifs" constantly flooding into my brain. I turned on my phone and scrolled through my Instagram feed, trying to tire myself. It never worked. I repeated this theory every night thinking that I would have an epiphany on ways to fall asleep. I knew that it was beginning to become a problem when I eventually dozed off at half past four, leaving me two and a half hours before morning. I awoke with no problem, but my eyes were bloodshot as usual and defined with a heavy black crease which under each which I had to hide with a ton of concealer before leaving the house.
I can feel the tiredness inside me like a worm, slowly but deliberately draining my life. I'm alive, but I'm not really living. I hear, but I'm not really listening. Everything seems to move in a dragged pace, all submerged into a hazy fuzz that is my vision.
Insomnia has this effect on you; it turns you into a living zombie. You've been awake and working for the last fifteen hours. Your body begs and begs for you to rest. But you can't. You must work; you must finish this now, or you will spend the rest of the night tossing and turning and stressing over it.
And then you'll get the comments, the questions.
"Why do you look so tired?"
"Get some sleep."
"You look like you hate life."
Oh, I'm sorry that it terribly bothered you that I've been thinking about how our modern society has caged us into this vicious cycle as we steadily succumb to our cruel biology and dying humanity.