Exhausting Life

Hi, I'm back. 

Writing this while having lunch—the usual office lunch. Today, everyone’s eating together, spread out in different rooms. A couple of them are chatting, having a good time while they eat, but here I am, in my room, solo, just me and my YouTube playlist of Halloween horror stories.

I realize one of my flaws: I just don’t have the same interpersonal skills as other people. No one ever taught me how to connect with others, and I barely know how to keep communication going with my own family. It’s bad—really bad. Without knowing how to bond with others, I often find myself in tough situations with nobody to help me out. Well, except for God. I pray day and night, hoping for a bunch help from above.

I’m the type who won’t ask for help unless someone else asks me first. I won’t open up about the important stuff in my life unless the other person shares something big with me first. I’ll never reveal my secrets unless they share theirs first.

For the past few years, I’ve been living in chaos. I’ve been caught up in problems that no one else can solve—only me and God. I put all my hope in God. I cry myself to sleep every night, scream into my pillow, sit in silence during my prayers, tears falling as I bow my head. How many years has it been? Maybe six. My hands shake, my chest feels tight, my soul feels restless, and I can’t even sleep unless it’s the meds putting me under. I’m tired—really tired. And I’m not telling anyone. I don’t expect people to know what my problems are; I just wish they’d understand that I’m exhausted. Really, really exhausted.