You get the early night. You take the slow weekend, the lie-in, the walk that was supposed to clear your head. By Wednesday afternoon the heaviness is back, the same as before, as if the rest never happened. The tiredness has outlasted everything that should have fixed it, and you put it down to age, or work, or the season, and you carry on.
When sleep does not touch tiredness, the tiredness was never really about sleep. Something else has taken the shape of exhaustion, because exhaustion is the one version of it you are allowed to admit to.
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