Thirsty

How will I manage to face the tomorrows that are about to come?  At what point will I be able to handle nothing more and collapse into myself?  Where will I go then?  What well of strength am I supposed to draw from?  I feel like I have been drained.  Empty.  There's nothing tangible for me to hold on to anymore.  A mirage is all that's there.  I am tired and thirsty.  Thirsty for a reprieve from the hurt.  Thirsty for a break from the pain.  Thirsty for a remembrance of what life was like before this drought.  I wonder if I would even recognize myself?  I pray for the day the rains will come.  But, I am terrified that when those torrential showers of emotions are finally set free, and my thirst is eventually quenched, it will be the day the last little piece of my heart breaks.  The day the dam of my soul succumbs to the grief.