Dear God, I’m just tired

It’s 7:13 a.m. and I’m wide awake. Not because I’ve had a good night’s sleep or anything. No. I woke up with a heavy heart. The kind of weight that feels like a 5,000kg load strapped to someone who weighs under 70kg. It’s crushing, suffocating.

I try to shake it off by doing laundry. Just five pieces of clothing, not because I have much to wash, but because I need something, anything, to help me feel a bit lighter. Maybe dipping my hands in soapy water will rinse off the sadness. But no, even after hanging the clothes, the heaviness stays, pressing harder on my chest.

I move to the kitchen and heat up the food I made yesterday — spaghetti and stew. No microwave, so it’s the good old stovetop method. Should I fry some plantain to go with it? Hmm… maybe later today or tomorrow. I’m not in the mood. So yeah, food’s ready. Stale, but ready. Still, nothing lifts.

I settle into the couch and play that Netflix series I started last week. Just something to distract me. But instead of a distraction, it becomes a trigger. Suddenly, I feel the pressure shift from my chest to my whole body. The tears come out of nowhere. I don’t even know I’m crying until my cheeks are wet and my throat feels tight. And I just sit there, mumbling, “I don’t want this life. I’m tired. I just want to be free. How did I even get here?”

My mind drifts back to when I became an adult. I ask myself, have I ever truly lived for me? Like, done things just because I wanted to? Failed because I chose to try? Gotten up because I believed in myself, not because someone else expected me to?

And there you have it. For people like us, it feels like we’re not allowed to make mistakes. We’re not even allowed to try. Our lives were scripted before we even had a say. We’re expected to follow the plan, stay in line, don’t fall, don’t stumble, don’t dream too loud. We’re just… extensions of our parents’ decisions and sacrifices.

But for how long? Till I turn 40? Is that when I finally get the green light to start living? To date without guilt? To build a life I want, even if it means failing and starting from scratch?

Everything around me feels like guesswork. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I don’t even know what I want. I haven’t done most of my “firsts.” I can’t even try because one wrong move could shake the fragile balance I’ve been trying to maintain for others.

Right now, everything feels uncertain. I’m not sure where I’m headed. I’m just here. I exist. I give. I help. I bend. But for whom? And for how long?

Sometimes I wonder if everyone I live for suddenly no longer needed me, who would I be? I don’t know the answer. I don’t even think I want to find out right now. Because I’ve given up so many firsts. I’ve delayed so many dreams. All in the name of duty.

This life, my life, has been nothing but question marks and crossroads. And honestly? I don’t have the answers. I’m tired of pretending like I do.

But maybe, just maybe… today is a soft reminder that something’s got to give. That it’s okay not to have it all figured out. That healing isn’t always a loud breakthrough. Sometimes it’s just waking up, crying, and still choosing to move through the day.

Maybe that’s the beginning of living for me. Even if it starts with cold spaghetti and stale stew.