Quotes About Exhaustion

A mí siempre me duele la cabeza. ¡Me siento cansada!». Y entonces él decía: «No estás enferma. Lo único que te pasa es que estás hecha de un material de mala calidad».

Existen personas para las que cualquier pequeño viaje o perspectiva de viaje supone aprensión y cansancio; una empresa agotadora. Para otras es un acto simple como sonarse la nariz.

The marketing message is that women need to have a reason to drink, whether it's girls' night, a fancy occasion, or just getting through another day of exhaustion. It's implied that we need permission to drink, as we do when we buy things.

The more I think the more my head hurts, and lately my brain has been in constant overdrive. I keep taking showers to cool it down, like the way they pour water on an overheating machine. I usually feel better after the third or fourth shower.

Probably chicken again. He's sick of chicken.

You just rebel against everything. How are you going to survive? I don't know. I'm already tired.

There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock. People so tired, mutilated either by love or no love

Sometimes I get too exhausted to even feel bad

All our days are marked with/ unexpected/ affronts--some/ disastrous, others/ less so/ but the process is/ wearing and/ continuous./ Attrition rules./ Most give/ way/ leaving/ empty spaces/ where people should/ be.

I went home each night dizzy and sick. He was murdering me with the sound of his voice.

So tired you want to quit, then you get more tired, and forget to quit.

we are worn-down, hope stamped out. We reach for coffee cups like the robots about to replace us.

I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn't let me.

This kind of life is like everybody else's kind of life: it's killing us.

It wasn't ENOUGH that I was working beside him like an idiot; it wasn't enough for him that I was wasting the few good hours left in my life—no, he also wanted me to share his own mind-soul, to sniff his dirty stockings, to chew on his angers and hates with him. I was not PAID for that, the fucker. And that's what killed you on the job—not the actual physical work but being closed in with the dead. I

I was tired and wet and hungover, but I was usually that way and I waded through the weariness like I did the water.

I walked around the library looking for books. I pulled them off the shelves, one by one. But they were all tricks. They were very dull. There were pages and pages of words that didn't say anything. Or if they did say something they took too long to say it and by the time they said it you already were too tired to have it matter at all. I tried book after book. Surely, out of all those books, there was one.

I walked around the library looking for books. I pulled them off the shelves, one by one. But they were all tricks. They were very dull. There were pages and pages of words that didn't say anything. Or if they did say something they took too long to say it and by the time they said it you already were too tired to have it matter at all.

you didn't adjust, you simply got more and more tired

You can't get blood out of a fucking turnip!

I listened and listened and listened, thinking what will I do now? How will I get this poor mad bastard to shut up? I went home each night dizzy and sick. He was murdering me with the sound of his voice.

After a couple of years of death by bureaucratic snu-snu (too many committee meetings, too many tedious IT admin jobs)

He's about to fall asleep in his plate.

People always accuse me of making these dark, depressing movies. 'Why do you have to pick up on real issues? People are so exhausted and miserable.'