I said I was exhausted
and the world kept moving.
No pause.
No recalibration.
Just the quiet implication —
everybody does.
Face warm.
Mouth closed.
Body numb.
Because if everybody does,
then I should be able to.
Like everybody else.
What I meant was —
leave me alone.
Let me move at the pace
my nervous system can survive.
Let me build a life
with negotiable volume.
Let me exist
without racing you.
Instead, I paid in
joy,
energy,
sanity.
For years.
Until one day
I stopped explaining.
Stopped performing capacity.
Stopped racing to prove I could.
I did not become smaller.
I did not become difficult.
I stopped stretching
to meet standards
that were never built for me.
