A Tired Heart
Some days, I feel like I’ve done all the healing I can do.
Like I’ve prayed the prayers. Journaled the pain. Sat with the silence.
And still…
My heart is tired.
Not broken. Not bitter. Just… tired.
Tired of hoping for closure that never comes.
Tired of being the strong one.
Tired of being soft in a world that mistakes softness for weakness.
And maybe most of all—tired of pretending that I don’t still want the things I stopped talking about.
But even in this tiredness, there’s something sacred.
Because a tired heart is still a heart that feels.
It hasn’t hardened. It hasn’t turned to stone. It hasn’t given up.
And maybe that’s a kind of strength too.
To keep going.
To keep believing.
To rest without quitting.
Tonight, I’m letting my heart rest.
No fixing. No forcing. No overthinking.
Just stillness.
Just faith.
Because even a tired heart still beats with hope.