When you’re just waiting. Waiting to get home, into your room, close the door, fall into bed, and just let everything out that you kept in all day.
That feeling of both relief and desperation. Nothing is wrong. But nothing is right either. And you’re tired. Tired of everything, tired of nothing. And you just want someone to be there and tell you it’s okay.
But no one’s going to be there.
And you know you have to be strong for yourself, because no one can fix you. But you’re tired of waiting.
Tired of having to be the one to fix yourself and everyone else. Tired of being strong.
And for once, you just want it to be easy. To be simple. To be helped. To be saved. But you know you won’t be.
But you’re still hoping. And you’re still wishing. And you’re still staying strong and fighting, with tears in your eyes. You’re fighting.