I'm consumed with exhaustion.

Just to carry on a conversation takes every part of me to form a single word.

How long will it be this time?

I am the thinnest of glass, fragile as hell.
Barely alive but still standing.

I'm so tired.
Tired of living.
Tired of dying.
Tired of just being so tired.

To not feel is a curse.
& to feel is a blessing.

But what is the in between?
Exhaustion I think.

I'm just so tired.

All of your words,
you some how break me
so dangerously
and gracious.

Learning to love every broken part of me is the hardest trial I have ever faced.

I've trained myself to only shed light on others when the power had shut off completely inside of my being.

How gracious and patient this love has sufficed.

How slow, long, and drawn out this war has been.

A constant, unnoticed war partaking relentlessly inside of me.  

With my hands to the air, I give up and give in to this unending fight.

This unfamiliar, insane, radical love.

Please catch me if you see me falling.

Stop me before I've lost my sanity.

I'm slipping quietly and quickly.

Don't let me go.

There is no place I can't look,
No feeling I can't sense,
No fragrance I can't smell,
that doesn't bring you here.
To life.
Right beside me.

How awful this feeling is.

To be so out f control if something so controlling.
Something taking over my being.

My stomach flipping, my eyes watering, my fists clenching.

How can you be so gone but so present?

The weight on my back has broken every bone in this body of mine.

When will this end?

When will I be strong enough to crawl out from under this bolder?

Why do I find such comfort in this shattered being?

I don't want it.
Make it end.