heartsick. the exhaustion runs deeper than bones, it's in the marrow, the longing floods your veins. you feel unsteady, like your heart shifted, or you just woke up from a nap in the wrong body and you spend the next half-hour looking up at the popcorn ceiling, inventing new constellations, because really that's all you could manage to do - you're terrified. you want a new mouth, new teeth, a new tongue so you could forget the language of yearning and the bite of its hunger. you're consumed by it; you know you can't go back to it and escape unscathed. it demands patience, and you've been unknowingly training for it. your whole life was one big waiting game, so you wait. and wait some more. and wait.