The exhaustion is hard to name. I don’t know what to call it. “Tired” is far too ordinary, “exhausted” is less so, but still not full enough. “Fatigue”, what the doctors call it, to name it as a symptom, is closer. But “weariness” is the closest I’ve come. It sits somewhere in my head, usually right at the top of my neck, like a weight. Like a stone. Like two hands pressing down, sometimes less than other times, but never letting up altogether. The weight and pressure of the weariness is always there, never letting me forget. And if I just let it, it can take me over and swamp me, those hands can push my head all the way under.