The Best Policy

I don't understand.

Am I exhausted? Am I depressed? 

I am scrambling. I am wanting to volunteer 'selflessly' for things I don't want to do, so I can throw my own pity party and have an explanation for why I feel this way. To give myself a better reason to cry, to release the mess inside of me.  But that's cheap. That's a bandaid on a festering wound and I refuse to settle for any sort of false healing. 

I am wanting to be done. To be through with the checklist, the planning. I want to be done with the fine print. 

I want to be able to be still. To just live. To choose my chaos, to be free to pull an audible. 

So what do I do? I shed a disappointingly small fraction of the tears that have been building for a month and leave the rest weighing heavy on my chest.

I sit.

I pray. 

The only words I have, "God heal me."

I write. 

I wait.

How's that for honest?