There’s a strange quietness in me these days. Not peace — more like a fog. I wake up tired, move slowly through the day, and carry this invisible heaviness I can’t quite explain. It’s not that I don’t care… it’s just that I feel empty. Like I’ve been running on fumes for far too long.
I crave change, deeply. I imagine a brighter version of myself — glowing, thriving, alive. But most mornings, even getting out of bed feels like a silent battle. Basic things — brushing my hair, making a meal, replying to a text — feel like too much. So I retreat. I scroll endlessly. I rewatch old shows. I reread the same comforting lines in my favorite book just to feel something that doesn’t require effort.
There was a time I blamed myself. Called it laziness. Wondered what was wrong with me. But now I know… this is not that. This is functional freeze. This is the weight of years spent holding it all together, quietly, bravely, without asking for help. Emotional exhaustion from always being “the strong one.”
What I need right now isn’t a fix. It’s not motivation or a pep talk. What I need is softness. A warm presence. A space where I can be held — not for who I’ve had to be, but for who I really am beneath the armor. I want to be seen, truly seen. Not for what I do, but for what I’ve endured.
I don’t need to explain why I’m tired. I just need space to rest. I don’t need to justify my quietness. I just need time to feel.
This season is not forever. But for now, I’m honoring where I am — tenderly, patiently, without shame.
Love,
Chits
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