Middle of It

It feels like I’m stuck in the middle of it—like that scene in The NeverEnding Story where the boy is screaming for his sinking horse. That’s me. Only it’s not mud I’m trapped in—it’s the weight of regret, the sting of shame, and the constant sense that I keep failing, no matter how hard I try.

smack dab in the middle

I can feel myself slipping, sinking deeper into the struggle, losing the strength to pull myself out. I’m tired—so tired. It’s like my body, my mind, my heart have decided there’s nothing left to give. I’m surrounded, swallowed, and I’m not sure I even want to move forward anymore.