I am tired.
The weight of pain is a heavy burden and it rips into my soul. I hear the whispers, I see the sideways glances.
’She’s taking this hard,’ and ‘poor thing’ are phrases that haunt me in my dreams.
They aren’t wrong, and yet they are. I see what this is doing to me. I see the pain pulling me down.
If I can see it yet still do nothing to stop it, doesn’t that make me guilty?
I am tired.
I am sin.
I am sloth.