It is the end of September and I am trying to remember
if I ever met anything at all,
It's hard to be present when I loathe this presence that I carry around like dead weight.
the what-ifs have started a war in my every raging head and the pills no longer let me sleep
the season is new but the story is old
and it is taken every ounce in me not to get bored.
wake up, brush my teeth and head out to make my dues.
the rent is late, the power is off
but the universe expects us to chug along
we all need help, some more than others
the end goal is the same, isn't it?
to love and be loved,
to find peace with wherever our life has led us.
are you like me?
are you torn between not wanting to care about anything because one day
we will all be dead and gone
and wanting to care about absolutely everything because you want this life to mean something?
it seems easier to go insane,
to succumb to the battle and just rest.
it is the end of September and I am trying to remember
whether I ever met anything at all.