You are not lazy. You are not faithless. You are not failing.
You are exhausted. And there is a difference.

The kind of tired you are carrying right now is not the kind that a good night's sleep fixes. It has settled into something deeper. You wake up already behind. You move through your days doing everything that is expected of you and end them with the quiet suspicion that something important is draining out of you, slowly, and you don't know how to stop it.

You remember what it felt like.

There was a season, maybe years ago, maybe further back than that, when God felt close in a way that was almost tangible. When scripture opened like a letter written specifically for you. When prayer felt less like a duty and more like a conversation with someone who already knew everything and loved you anyway. When you could feel the weight of His presence without having to manufacture it.

And then, somewhere in the accumulation of years and responsibility and noise, that closeness became a memory instead of a reality.