Literary
Manifesto of Exhaustion
D
Dirae (Pen Name)
Feb 15, 2026
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I was always racing a clock that only I could hear.
I find myself recoiling at those who lack it, those who move through life with a languid entitlement, as if the universe owes them an eternity.
I’d bristle at the mere sight of their stillness. Why aren't they moving?
Or maybe…
It’s just me. I was forged in the "how" and the "fastest."
I became a spectator of my own life, hyper-aware of the gaze of others, obsessed with the geography of being first.
Pressure.
"Calm" was a foreign tongue. "Gentle" was a myth.
To me, patience and freedom felt more like stagnant air, suffocating, heavy.
Time wasn't a gift; it was my favorite cage.
Perfection was the only constant I allowed.
It’s a strange irony that I resent their slow pace, yet oh—how I dream about it.
I want to breathe without this phantom deadline.
I want to stop treating my life like a sprint and finally learn how to just... linger.
// Words by Dirae
END OF STORY