There’s the bad kind of tired- the kind where you’re so fed up with being alive, the kind where you’ve had a shitty day, the kind where you’re hopeless, but not hopeless enough. Where you desperately wish you could sleep everything away, only to wake up, with everything clouding over you almost instantaneously.
It floats in dark wisps, lurking in a corner of your mind. Slowly turns into a dense, suffocating fog of bad memories as soon as you’re awake and conscious, pain and suffering brought on only by yourself. It’s everything in life that’s pushing down on you, that you chose to accept as bad news.
It’s clingy as the warm bed covers on a cold winter day, pulling, drowning, not letting go of you. It’s everything you wish you could let go in a windy day, things that you hope will never come back to haunt you.
And above everything – the whirlwind of a day, the tsunami of emotions, the useless hoping and praying – clear as day, you’d wish you weren’t tired. But… there’s the other kind of tired, too. The better kind. The best kind.
The kind where you’re simply exhausted, after a long, positive day of soaking in everything, and you’d wish that you could stay up longer, because who knows when you will ever be this free, this happy, again?
Who knows when the mist will cloud over again? Who knows when the hurricane will come back? Who knows if the lightning will strike again, more aggressive and powerful than ever?
You’ll go to bed happy, and fall asleep without the time or energy to replay moments from the day. You’ll drift off as soon as your head touches the pillow, effortlessly. Seamlessly. Carefree.
You won’t even remember you were tired.
And that’s the best kind there is.