“How are you?” asks a polite acquaintance.
The answer is tired. Tired like always.
“Good,” you reply with a smile, because, no matter how much it pretends to be, tired is not the right word. This feeling won’t be cured by a full night’s rest.
Fatigued would be more accurate, medically. In some classes you struggle to keep your eyes open even though you got 8 hours of sleep the night before. Talking, walking, and working drains energy you didn’t think you had. Your good days are the equivalent of your younger self’s worst. You can’t remember what it feels like to wake up with more energy than you had the night before.
A common side effect of mental and physical illnesses, fatigue has followed you like a shadow since your diagnosis. The meds that control your symptoms only heighten the feeling. Around you, the world moves at a speed too fast for your struggling mind and body to keep up.
Eventually, you come across someone with the same illness, and the same side effects. Something that you’ve never considered comes to mind after you finish the conversation. In your battle against your fatigue and your illness as a whole, you are not alone.
The next day, when someone asks you how you are, you smile. Though you’re tired, it’s genuine. In spite of the fatigue, you woke up this morning. You saw your family, and will be surrounded by friends for much of your day. You are tired, exhausted, fatigued: but you are alive. You know that there are others fighting with you. “Good,” you respond, and you mean it. 








