When I'm at the End

I don't know what it is, but I'm definitely at the end of my rope. I'm restless. Very restless. And that's probably the biggest understatement that I've made this year. I've noticed, also, that it's paved a road to a lot of anger lately - not what I was expecting. I feel like I've been kept locked up for so long, I'm ready to break loose, to be set free. But I wait. I still have more time to fester and to let my emotions stir. Why? Because sometimes the cruelest thing I endure is what's best for me.

But I'm definitely at the end. I can take no more.