Ngikhathele.

Psalms 61:2 From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

Sighs. I don't know man. Please allow me to vent. I feel so tired. I cannot even bring myself to read. I have hardly been writing too. Actually I haven't been writing at all. All I have been doing is listen to music and sleep. You know, to escape feeling. To escape my reality. The one that does not involve running in a field of daisies with the wind in my hair and the sunshine kissing on my skin. The one that is not so rosy. The one that has got me writing this piece. Yazi, I'm so tired. Ngikhathele of trying you know. A girl can only do so much. I am tired of praying for a miracle. Only to see it being magical for some. I get it. Own lane. Own pace. Whatever. But how come the grass I have been watering just won't grow or let alone turn green. Show me that there is life. That there is hope. I'm tired of staying in my head. Over thinking. Over analysing. Trying to get a distraction. And actually getting none. Seeing disaster from a mile away and choosing to ignore it. Busying myself with my blue paint and brushes working tirelessly on the red flags. I am worn out from the challenges that come my way. I wonder man. What's the point of it all? Am I being prepared for hell? So that I can handle the fire just fine? Am I being prepared for a greater purpose? Why can't it be revealed now so I know? And atleast learn to dance on the coal to the crackles. Embrace the flames that can't be quenched as they melt my skin away. You have no idea how tired I am. Ngikhathele of people who slam the door on my face as they walk out of my life only to come back and expect me to accommodate their memory of me when so much has happened along the way. I've grown. I've been hurt. I've lost. I've gotten a little tired of the bullshit. Ngikhathele. Tired of being triggered by small things. I think I've healed. I think I've moved on. Till one missed call leaves me having a panic attack. A couple of years later. See I wasn't taught how to deal with this in the classroom, just my ABCs and 123s. Not how to handle past traumas. Not how to handle future fears. Not how to handle the present disappointments. The tiredness. See, I'm tired of having my emotions all over the place. It makes it so hard to make sound decisions. I feel so tired. Of actually sitting back and thinking nah he probably won't bother answering that. And thinking let me not even bother calling.I am really tired. Tired of noticing the little things. The way you arch your brow, or try to breath through your teeth, or the change of your tone, or how you almost roll your eyes but can't because I'm staring right at you. I hate that I see it all but choose to pretend like I didn't. Because why? Life goes on. Because why? I'm a big girl. Because why? It's usually the people you love the most that will hurt you the worst. Because why? Welcome to the fuckening. Ngikhathele of how I have to learn to live with people who don't give a damn. Even if I wish with all my heart that they did. Always. Even if I choose to see the good in them. Always. Only to be punched in the face. Always. Right on the jaw. Always. Ngikhathele for putting so much effort into relationships and never getting the candles. The roses. The chocolates. Like I just figured if I put in the same energy they are giving off everything just won't work out. Both friends and family, alike. The way I give my all and then get to be offered bread crumbs when the loaves are on display. Free for the taking. Yazini. I can't help but wonder, don't I deserve a little better? Some sprinkles, sunshine and unicorns? Yes, I know that may be too much to ask. But happiness maybe? Yes? No? A little strength to carry on? I'm tired of my body failing me time and again. It is painful. It is worrying. I don't want to imagine what would happen if my lungs decide to give up. I'm so tired of being so angry at him. I won't be able to forgive myself if he drops dead tomorrow. Despite all he has done. It's sick how people say one thing and actually do another. I'm so tired of not being able to spit venom. Forever laughing. Forever smiling. Bullshit. I'm so tired because of the pressure to get things done within a certain timeline. When you actually exist outside time. You are time. Everlasting to everlasting. Fuck 18. Fuck 25. Fuck 40. Fuck 65. I'm so tired of the way people are dying. I never seem to get used to it. But atleast they are in a better place. Where they never get tired. Ngikhathele of blaming myself whenever something goes wrong. I should have prayed a little harder. I should I have checked up on them. I shouldn't have grown tired. I shouldn't have cussed. I shouldn't have written this for you to read. Carry me in prayer friend. My strength is failing me.