pooped. drained. bushed. dead-beat.

I'm pooped. Drained. Bushed. Dead-beat.
What can I say, I just feel tired these days. And as ever, a tired body almost always brings out the tired soul in me.

I feel weary. And at times like this (you need a juicy? -corny!), I find writing a comfort. This is my comfort zone. I don't consider myself a writer. I will never write a novel that people would buy. I will not be winning awards for poems, stories or essays. But guys I have to admit, I don't write too bad either. If I were, you wouldn't be reading this anymore. But I digress.

Vulnerability is something that not a lot of people would associate me with. I can only count a handful of people who would say I am vulnerable. And there's much less who have seen me in such a state. But yes, I am vulnerable.

I hurt easily, much too easily. And I cry far more than you can imagine me to. I too, get tired. And most of the time, I would feel like caving in and have someone take care of me. Like most people, I pine for affection. I yearn for warmth. I, too, need a shoulder to cry on, a wall to lean on, a hand to cling to.

Oh yes, there is no better feeling in the world than to be in control. When it seems that everything has been laid to plans and nothing could seem to raze the foundations you've built. There is this high point when you think you've done all you could and everything has just been perfect. But see, after that high point, you get down from your platform and everything else is just empty. And you try to get the feeling again but the moment has passed. Life doesn't always work looking your way. And the emptiness lingers. And you feel tired...

...Pooped.. Drained... Bushed... Dead-beat.