Tired of pretending

**Tired of Pretending**

No, I'm just tired, you know?

Not the sleepy kind where a cozy bed can fix me up, but this soul-deep exhaustion, a kind of weariness that feels like a shadow dragging me down.

My heart's running on empty, like a gas tank that's screaming for a fill-up,

drained from carrying too much weight, like a backpack full of bricks or my thoughts chasing me around in circles.

Too many feels, too many highs, and yet here I am—

feeling numb, like l've checked out of life's rollercoaster,

where every loop is a memory that sticks in my throat, like a song I can't shake off.

Life's been heavy lately, like it's rolled up into a ball and landed right on my chest.

Every day feels like a battle at dawn, and I'm running on fumes,

wondering if I'm winning or just holding the line.

It's like fighting shadows with my back against the wall,

my hands are up, but the real fight rages inside.

I don't know if I'm okay—

sometimes, it feels like I'm just putting on a show,

a brave face in the mirror, smiling through the cracks that show

just how deep this tiredness goes.

I hope they're proud of me, the ones I carry in my mind,

the voices that whisper, "You're still here, you made it this far, keep going!" But man, I wish I knew where to find a safe harbor,

a place where I can just breathe, where the air doesn't feel heavy and thick,

where I can unburden my heart and let it rest just for a while.

Because right now, I'm holding on by a thread, fingers intertwined,

pretending everything's fine when inside, I'm spiraling, wishing I could shout it out loud,

"Hey, I'm not okay!"

But what would they say?

Would they look surprised, or nod their heads knowingly?