"And even if somebody else has it much worse, that really doesn't change the fact that you have what you have. Good or bad."

Like my time is never really mine.
Sleep is my only excuse
But it's never enough.
There's too much that I want.
Anxiety pulls harder with every
message on the phone.
Stretched so thin, I am a translucent
memory of what I used to dream about.
Yanking, Dragging, and Attempting
to confine me to limits that don't exist.
And I have no clue where my life went.
All I know is that it's friday night, and no one understands
that I am trapped.


"I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning."