But I'm fine, I'm just fine. I am aren't I? Fine, just fine.

Because sometimes, when I say I'm tired, I also mean of myself.
I don't know why, but I am.
Frustrated with myself even. And then, tired of that.
Sometimes, when I say I'm tired, I mean of the things around me.
The way the world spins so perfectly on it's perfect little axis and I am left wondering if I will always feel this way.

If you ask me if I'm happy, I am. For the most part. And I am glad for that. Grateful for the life that I have and the things that I do and the fact that everyday I get to wake up and do exactly what I love.

But then sometimes, I wake up with tiredness sewn in to the lining of my bones.

Sometimes I wake up, like today, excited about my life and the things I have to do.
And I add to it with an amazing breakfast.
And go on to have a fantastic meeting. And other meetings that makes sense and that were good.
And somewhere, at some point, maybe during the third cab ride, or on the bus or on the final drive home, the tiredness hit me the way a knife finds that perfect spot right between your ribs.

Sometimes, when I say I'm tired, I mean physically, yes, but with all these other bits added to it.
The sort of tired that hangs on your clothes, and slips out from your fingertips.
The sort of tired that makes you want to curl up with bottle of wine and My Best Friend's Wedding on repeat.
The sort of tired that makes you ask yourself when you ever started running in the same rat race you've watched generations before you run. And how come you didn't even know when you started.
And you wonder just where the finishing line is. And try to get over the fact that it's likely pretty damn far away because you're only just starting your career.
Try to get over the fact that maybe, there isn't actually a finishing line.
You just keep running.
Faster, and harder, your feet pounding on the floor until it burns your insides, and takes the form of the car with the obscenely priced COE or the piano lessons you feel your children have to take or the Condominium that you bought because of a gym that you now never even have time to use.
And you run, and run and keep running. Faster, harder, to send your children to the country best known for the fields they want to major in, for the large Christmas gatherings that make catching up more convenient because everyone's in the same place, for the swingset you'll get to sit on when this is all over.
Except you don't know when that'll be.

And you run, and run and run until,
You're tired.