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  • I'm tired.

    To be fair, I have always been tired. I will always be tired. There isn't a me without fatigue involved. I don't remember a time when I wasn't so tired, but for the past month and a half, I have struggled to get out of bed. I have worked. I have walked. I have volunteered, taken pictures, written stories, and lived, in probably the opposite order.

    A few weeks ago, I hung out with astronauts; I don't know how that happened. I mean, I do, but I don't. That's not my life! It is. It's my life. Astronauts. We talked about lemon cake and the movie The Martian.

    A week ago, I went to my favorite place on this planet. I spent time with a friend. I talked too much and walked too little. I made new friends. I missed some of the old ones. I think a stranger fell half in love; he doesn't know me. (I did mention the boyfriend.) I had conversations with a Doberman and wished that maybe I had a thundershirt for the storm. I danced in the rain. I cried. I laughed. I wore wings while eating Cheerios. Then, I came home.

    I tried to come home.

    After a crazy early flight and far too little sleep in the form of none at all, I made a tight connection, gate-checked the bag with my house keys inside, and spent several hours on the tarmac with a mechanical difficulty - one of two altimeters - that turned into a fuel shortage, which turned into a chance to leave the plane if I took everything with me because leaving the plane meant I might not get back on and I realized that the plane and my keys might leave without me, so I stayed onboard.

    I stayed on the plane.

    I didn't eat. I slept too little. I talked to a woman who called me amazing (words that meant little to me), and I came home to sleep because I was just so very tired.

    Over the past week, I have worked. I have walked (a little) and seen doctors (too many), and slept as much as I could. It didn't help. There isn't an answer. There isn't a pill to take, food to eat, or exercise to try. I cannot "rest" enough. I live it already. There just isn't a me without fatigue involved.

    Over the past week, I needed a break from being so tired and living life anyway. Today, though, I gave up on that. I danced in the drizzle, stopped for a motorcade, and watched a man work with spray paint on brick. I picked up free comic books. I joined a free Zumba class. I danced in the street, and I stopped to take pictures as I do everyday, pictures that nobody will see, pictures that mean nothing to anyone but me because that's how I know I'm OK with the world. I know that I'm fine when I want to capture the world and make people see what I see.

    Today, life happened, and this is one of the pictures from it.
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