I Hate the Spleen

I know when it arrives, I can feel it; it's that sadness that isn't sharp or painful, it's not depression, nor melancholy, it's those moments where... I don't know what to do with myself, where I get tired of being in my own skin, not in a cruel way, but... genuinely exhausted. I know they're temporary, but even so, sometimes I just wish I could be less demanding of myself, and finally, live with the peace I so long for.