I simply am filled to the brim with exhaustion. My mind can no longer compute common words. My breasts have run out of overtime. When you want me like this, I see you— your instability, your pain. But being at your beck and call, as the clock’s arms move across my body, I am left withering, dry and dripping at the same time. These days of loving you prove to be the most challenging sort. How am I to hold your tears when my eyes soon too overflow? These days are the ones that make up "it's hard." When all I want to do is curl up in a ball, shut out the world, responsibilities, the noise, the questions, questions, questions, and hibernate like the great grizzly. But I can’t. Because even the grizzly must do her job and be there for her little bear. She must suckle him. She must shelter him. She must shh him to sleep. Because it’s not his fault that his teeth hurt, or that he has stickers in his fur, or that his little body is simply not ready to face the world without her.
the ending paragraph is everything