Sometimes I wish I could be tied up like a puppet.
I want to be physically picked up and dragged around to do my daily tasks. As if I were a doll, a vessel to carry out all this silly make-believe.
I don’t want to pick myself up
I am so exhausted
My energy is spent on existing. Breathing, thinking, sensing, feeling, consuming, healing, processing. That’s a lot of to-dos already.
So I will exist. If you want more from me, bring string to tie to my wrists, and drag me.
My muscles will remain relaxed
My mind will remain quiet
But you may tug the strings as I sleep.
It takes far too much to pilot and tow around this weighted woven medley of flesh and bone.
Twisting and lugging my limbs to attempt the delicate ballet of appearing correctly human.
Drag me. I don’t care where you tie the strings, or where you whisk me off to. Just let me rest.
— Addi F.