I am so very tired.
Tired from irregular sleep.
Tired from work.
Tired of this feeling that I am doing nothing productive in the spare time I do have.
Tired of this fucking snow and wind that just isn't showing any signs of leaving us.
Tired of watching fuzzy CBC and listening to fuzzy radio.
Tired of feeling fat, lazy and horny all at the same time.
Tired of doing the dishes.
Tired of chewing my nails down to nubs.
Tired of sitting here, wanting to leave the house, socialize, run errands, and knowing full well that I just won't do any of those things, even though there is no reason whatsoever why I can't.
Tired of this god damn writers block.
Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the wine. Most likely the wine, because after a couple of glasses, I decided to continue this wee rant of mine, just to get it all out of my system.
I am tired of worrying.
I am sick and tired of being bored.
I am tired of all the wondering.
I am tired of my split ends and wrinkles.
I am tired of Christmas carols, already.
I am sick and tired of being afraid of the ice.
I am tired of feeling trapped in this small room, but at the same time not wanting to leave.
I am tired of knowing everything's OK, but still feeling like it is not.
I am tired of whining. I am going to bed.