The Invisible Weight

I'm incredibly tired.  Somehow, my body has relaxed and my eyelids are heavy.  But my eyelids haven't been the only thing feeling heavy in my world. 

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness, as if an invisible weight had been put on my shoulders, getting heavier until I felt as though it would pull me down to the floor.  Every door I opened created a heavier air.

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness, as if someone was about to die, and the invisible weight on my shoulders was that I knew them.  They could be family, they could be friend; they could be someone I know.

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness, as if an invisible weight of visible contact crushed me, causing me to fret.  The thought of someone close simply being too close for comfort. The weight of socialization on spot.

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness, as if the invisible weight caused me to...

Sleep.  Sleep deeply.  Sleep deeply, to let my subconscious mind listen to whatever the heaviness had to say.  It places in my subconscious mind, great anxiety, that will surely cause me to weaken in place, unable to move.

Today, my entire world carried a heaviness.  As I try to stay awake to fix the weight of sleeping during the day and staying awake at night, I knew that the only heaviness I wanted to feel was that of deep relaxation.

I knew that the only way I was going to be rid of the heaviness was if I made it long enough to bear its lingering effects.

As I attempted to shift the weight from my shoulders to some other part of me, I found that it just wasn't working, and I knew I had to do something.

And fast.

But the invisible weight of my world was too much.

And I crashed, the very moment I tried to fly.

-LJ
29 May 2016