Burnout.

You were like a vacation or an unexpected breath of fresh air.

You were a break from my ordinary.

I needed what you offered and then you disappeared.

And I’m so tired.

I’m mentally, physically and spiritually exhausted.

I want to be unplugged for a week, but then when I asked and bartered for that time I was drug through the mud and everything became too loud.

And I’m crying again because I don’t know how I can walk back into that environment. My adrenaline soars just thinking of putting my key in the door.

I don’t know how others do it. I don’t know how they are able to regroup and do it over and over and over again without a break. 

You were the closest thing I’ll get to a vacation, but the closer I get the more you look like a mirage.

My cup is so empty, I need touch. I need to be held. I need a break. There’s never enough time right now to recharge and it’s fatally frustrating.

I can’t breathe under this mask of the girl who smiles and does what’s asked of her.

I am choking on my own pleasantries and willingness to please.

I am screaming and nobody can hear me.