It’s the end of what has felt like an incredibly long week, despite the holiday we had on Monday. As such, I figured there’s no better time to talk about a few things that have made me tired, weary, and every other related adjective you can think of.

I’m tired of reaching out to people and not having them reach back. Some say absence makes the heart grow fonder. But while silence can be golden, its presence can also be incredibly frigid. I’m really good at taking hints, and I also really hate being cold. Thus, no more reaching. I’m not mad, it’s just the way it has to be. For me.

Speaking of golden, there’s that rule — you know, the one that tells us to treat others as we want to be treated. But when my efforts aren’t reciprocated, why continue? I have no idea why I do, but I make this mistake repeatedly. I assume people are just busy, and I hope they’ll have more time in their lives for me at some point. I assume they care, and that maybe they’ll be able to show it more when their lives calm down. Assume, assume, assume. You know what they say about that, right? So I think it’s time to be done — time to be done excusing them, and time to be done with waiting for them to be anything other than what they’ve already proven themselves to be.

I’m tired of making a point to ask others about the difficult times they’re going through, only to be met with silence and lack of interest from someone else when I share a rough patch in my life with them. I like to think that I take the time for those who matter most to me, and I wish I felt the same from them. But if they don’t take the time for me, then I suppose that’s my problem. It’s almost spring, the season of cleaning, and so I guess now is as good of a time as any to discard them and make way for the new.

I’m tired of inconsistency, and yet why would I expect more? I’ve clearly been the one who has tolerated it for so long.

I’m tired of having things dangled in front of me that never materialize. Go peddle your shiny objects, your carrots and show off your sparkly items somewhere else, and in front of someone who can afford to spend more time hoping, waiting and pining away for them than I can.

I heard something recently about how a generous heart can often be misdirected in its giving, and it made me think of myself. It was a harsh reality, but the sting of it made me thankful for having a big heart, despite the fact that it apparently feels pain that much more easily. Then again, I suppose it’s to be expected, being that there’s that much more surface area for it to take an arrow or bullet.

It’s a blessing and a curse, the heart is. And while I will always consider mine more the former, the time has simply come for it to be surrounded by like-hearted people. Anything else is exhausting.