Words fail as the brain shuts down. Numbness creeps into tired joints and fingers freeze on the keyboard.

There is more, yes? More than this? The inner voice is quiet. Timid.

Yes?

But the pain seems endless. It’s not going anywhere.

Work beckons. Must I? Surely I can just sit here? But those around just disappear, lunch devoured.

Leaving an empty room. An empty life. 

It’s not that bad. 

It’s not that bad

“You love it”. 

I do. 

But so tired, I feel so tired. 

And sad. 

My reflection cannot lie – it knows

Despite the fancy words and prose

I’m burning out.

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