Drained

(older writing)

I lie here wide awake as tears stream down my face.For three hours now, they’ve fallen at the same steady pace.

My mind drifts back to the old days — how life used to feel.Only now do I realize those might’ve been the best days I’ll ever get to steal.It’s wild to be twenty and already feel like my whole life is done.What happened to late-night talks, dumb jokes, and all the stupid fun?

My head drives me insane as I sit alone in my room,and I’ve started to assume that loneliness is my permanent future.What happened to my spirit? My will? My drive?Each day feels heavier, harder, like I’m barely surviving.

And yes — I have my health, and I’m grateful for that more than anything.I just wish I knew how to pick my soul up off the floor.Because my heart, my spirit, my mind…They’re drained.Completely strained.Like I’m running on emotional fumes in a tank that’s long been empty.

I wish I had someone to see, somewhere to go, something that felt meaningful.But the truth is, the only person who even remotely matters to your life… is you.I wish I had someone to talk to — someone who could genuinely relate to the pain,someone who wouldn’t flinch at the darker parts of my brain.But really, who would want to be around mewhen “falling short” feels like the headline of my life?

Still… here I am.Drained, but writing.Empty, but somehow still spilling words.Maybe that’s its own kind of survival — a quiet proof that I’m still here,searching for steady ground, self-esteem, and a reason to keep goingeven when everything in me feels worn down to threads.