I am weary, comprehensively weary. It's a weariness that transcends the physical, and penetrates deep down to ones spirit. It's the kind of weary that isn't remedied by a good night's rest or even a good cry, in fact it's the type of weariness that is only intensified by such activities, depending.
On another weary note: I am weary of throwing my affections at anything that will accept them. It's exhausting and miserably dissatisfying. I know what I need, and what I don't. Yet, I persist in pursuing some of the very things I know I don't need and don't want, yet are better than nothing. That's terrible, I know, but at least it's honest. Sigh.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."