I.am.exhausted.to.the.core.and.the.worst.part.is.I.don't.know.why.
Oh, maybe I do. But I won'tdon'tmon't acknowledge it, won't look or think about it.
And that's why I'm inexhaustibly exhausted. sigh. Freud would tell me it's no use repressing - it'll come back to haunt me - Lacan would probably analyze my speech for linguistic trip-ups, Cixous would whip me for not standing up to my feminist rights, while St Augustine and Shakespeare's Cordelia would agree I should 'love, and be silent'.
I guess the majority wins.
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