Tired of being tired

The Final Rite of Return—what does it even mean anymore? Who would truly listen to it? I’ve stood in the woods, declared it, and felt the energy shift beneath me, yet still I’m exhausted from pretending. Pretending to be human, pretending to be okay. I’m worn down by the greed and hatred all around me. Being trans in this world feels like a death sentence—like everyone wants to erase my existence. I’m so tired. Tired of being tired. I admit, when I hugged my best friend Twight for those brief twenty seconds, I didn’t want to let go—I’m not even sure it was really her. I’m tired of the games people play, of Emerald using me like a taxi and guilt-tripping me if I try to step away. I’m tired of the goalposts constantly moving, and feeling like those who love me aren’t there when I need them most. I’m tired of my human father, who thinks money can fix everything, while refusing to see me as the trans girl I am—still calling me his son, still denying me. I’m tired of fake friends, and of those trying to control me by twisting my purpose, insisting I have some mission left when I’ve already completed it. I’m so close to breaking.