The Cry of a Soul Out of Road

The afternoon stretches out, a long, gray hallway where you are still holding the weight of someone who cannot hold themselves. And in the quiet of your own exhaustion, a thought arrives that makes you sick to your stomach: you wish they would just die so you could finally sleep.

Do not turn away from that thought. Do not let it convince you that you are a monster.

It is not hatred. It is the cry of a soul that has run out of road.

The light does not recoil from your honesty. It sees the part of you that is desperate for rest, and it does not condemn you for it.

You came from the light, a drop sent into this heavy world to illuminate it, not to drown in it forever. Even now, in this dark corner of your mind, you are that light.

The wish for the night to end is not a sin; it is the signal that you are still alive enough to know you need rest.