Giving Up

I can feel my body giving out. My heart isn't beating like it use to beat. It feels weak. I don't have my youth. I don't have the physical strength that I use to possess. My desire to remain and fight no longer exists. I feel displaced, therefore, I feel weakened.
I am thirty-three. Historians speculate that Christ died on the cross at thirty-three. This age feels like the cross. I am experiencing the hardest trials of my life, an uphill battle with little respite. There are nights I fall asleep, wondering if I will have enough breath left to awake in the morning. I long for final rest. I long to be reunited with Christ. This wearied flesh is giving up.