Tired

A few weeks ago, I went walking on Mount Snowdon. It was a long walk, beautiful, exhausting, challenging at times. But we reached the summit.
The way back seemed to drag on forever. We walked through wet, boggy grassland; the path didn't seem to end. Everyone was tired, had wet feet and just wanted to get back to the cars and the end of the journey.

My life feels like that. The way uphill was hard, so many challenges, but yet so rewarding. When I look back, I can hardly believe how much time has passed, how long I've lived and how many things I have experienced. I look at old photos and realise, I was already alive when they were taken. I hear songs on the radio and remember a time from decades past. There's so much in the past now and not much ahead, it seems. And the way seems to go on forever.

Every day I force myself to go through yet another day. I'm so tired. All I want is, to rest. But I can't and so I just march on. What else can I do?

The German word for "suicidal" is "lebensmüde". Literally "tired of living".

I'm not suicidal. But I am very, very tired. I am no longer curious, what may lie behind the next corner or over the next hill. I have seen so many things; at some point they just start repeating themselves.

I try to be good. I try to do things, that make my life better. More interesting, more fun - and it works. My life is interesting. And fun. I have friends, I do wonderful things.
I try very hard, not to give up. I try so very hard, to find something that makes me want to go on.

I am so very tired.