Tired is only word, with so many different parts.

 

There are the days where you wake up tired as if you had never gone to bed. Those days are full of tears, high tempters, vague answer, and shrinking into yourself.

 

There are the bright and jazzy days. You do anything and everything until you utterly exhausted. But it is the happy kind of tired. Listening to 90’s music on the radio, and sipping a vanilla milkshake.

 

There are the days where nature takes your breath away, as you hike through a forest littered with pine-cones. The cold air and bold and vibrant colors have a different kind of tired. They have the invigorated kind of tired, where you feel accomplishment.

 

There is the sleepy coast town kind of tired. The salt air, and the warm sun. The shifting sand, and the untamed ocean. This kind of tired of full of salt crusted hair, seashells, sand castles, and brightly colored umbrellas. This is the sweet kind of tired, all calm and full of soft beach towels.

 

The sick day tired, where your eyes won’t open. Your head feels like a hammer is hitting it, and your forehead is burning up. This is the miserable and grey tired. All black and grey as it worms fingers through your body and makes you feel weak.

 

There is the car trip tired. Where you wake up every few hours in a different place, full of flashing neon lights and the zooming of cars on the inner state. This is the reserved kind of tired, full of has station stops and restroom breaks.

 

There is the angry kind of tired, with slamming doors and angrily brushed teeth. Frustrated tears, and wet pillows.

 

Late night happy tired, when everyone is asleep. You walk quietly around the house, a sleepy smile on your face. You sip hot cocoa and look through old photo albums. Your eyes get wet from nostalgia and you surround yourself with pictures. Memories. You scribble down half finish thoughts, of poetry that you might never finish. This is the best kind of tired to me.

 

There is the city kind of tired, where you curl up on your window seat, your laptop illuminating your face. Your fat grey cat curls around your legs, and your fingers dance across the keys.

 

The lonely kind of tired as you twirl the short strands of hair that don’t fit into your ponytail around your finger. Pop music plays through your earbuds as you stare up at the ceiling. You started playing music to block out your thoughts, but no matter how much you turn the music up, it does not.

 

 

 

 

 

I dress to express,

Not to impress.

And I will try to fix you.

1. Love hurts.
2.  Boys lie.
3. Friends cry.
4. People die.
5. Parents yell
6. You never can meet standards
7. And you don’t know why

She whispered softly as her older sister held her, tears streaming down her face, “Why does heartbreak hurt so much?” Her older sister paused, and said, ” It hurts because someone you gave you three months, two days, and an hour too, left you. It hurts because he dug his way into your heart, and planted roses. The same roses which thorns are not cutting you apart. Heartbreak hurts, darling, because love hurts, but some of the best things do.” The sobs where quieter now, as the younger girl whispered, “How can I get over him?” The older girl sighed, and said,”You can just get over someone, only learn to live without them, and live with the holes they tore in your heart.” The older sister then rose, and walked over to her nightstand drawer, and removed a faded blue journal. She held it out to the girl with the tear stained cheeks and said, “Read.” The younger girl looked at the title, which said in her sister’s younger writing, “The guide to heartbreak.” A smile threated to come through, but she only turned to the first page. And read aloud, ” One, Stop thinking about him. You are not on his mind. Two, Put down your phone, he is not going to text you,” At this her eyes strayed to her phone lying on the bed. ” Three, Take a nice bath, do something good for youself. Four, Get dressed, do your make-up, and go out for dinner, and five, Think about yourself and who you are, do not let this take over your life.” She fliped the page, but the rest of the journel was empty. Her older sister said, “Keep it, follow the five things, and make your own, because heartbreak is only the path way to love.”

“I don’t know what to do. I’m tired of always going back to him, but I can’t imagine life without him.” She says  with drooping shoulders. Her friend smiles sadly and says “Wait three days. If he hasn’t texed or called, you where not worth a minute of those seventy two hours. I can’t promise you that it won’t hurt, or that you won’t cry because you will, but I can promise you that is is better then spending days with someone who doesn’t appriciate you.” They both sniffled, their eyes unfocused as they thought of someone who had broken their hearts, with a simple goodbye.

 

 

“It still hurts. You know they all say that pain fades with age, but it has been three weeks, four days, and six hours, and I am still helplessly in love with him.” She said, staring down at her faded converses. “It’s like an ache in my chest, like a small hairline crack that grows bigger every time I hear his name. He tried to call me at first, to say the words that won’t have meaning, like ‘I’m sorry’ can fix everything. He doesn’t try anymore.” Her smile is bittersweet. “And the saddest part is that I actually started to believe in happily ever afters again.” This seemed to be too much, and tears ran down her face as she whispered, “And I thought he was mine.”

~MW.