I am tired. I am so tired most days I’m not even here. I’m so tired of seeing things most others do not see. Half of what I see may be real, while the other half is just paranoia. I’m so tired of not being an identity. Of not growing myself into a somebody, so resigning myself into an anybody. I’m hardly ever inside of myself, instead I am watching from over my shoulder, as if I am a different person seeing me. But, in the rare spans of time when I do make it home into myself, when I surface and look out of me and I begin to remember how old and tired I really am from this life I have, the shards they keep hidden deep within me. I am so old beyond years and yet so young in my fears, but above all else I am exhausted from halfway existing in my own time out of time. I have grown tired now from peering through these eyes that are mine. I am so so tired now; it is my time to sleep. Once again surrendered to my shards, my shelter while in my own self fashioned keep.