TRIGGER WARNING: This story is quite dark. My apologies, and thank you for reading!- Kitten
I don't know why I'm so tired.
The days are meshing into each other,
And I can't tell my dreams and reality apart.
Colors are dulling.
Food doesn't taste as vibrant as it used to.
Still, I go to bed and wake up again,
Because it's what I'm supposed to do.
My body won't stop shaking, and I'm always cold;
I've been cold for weeks.
What was once just "tired" has morphed into dread.
I don't want tomorrow to come.
It's too much to do it all over again.
I met with the committee in my head,
But all it says is "I don't know."
Since my head doesn't have the answer,
I ask the ceiling instead.
It doesn't know either.
I'm going to fix myself.
I consulted the committee again,
Screamed at it for being itself,
Taught it to hate itself again.
It was wrong of me.
I should not hate the only thing I have.
I can't look in the mirror anymore.
The committee in my head decided to turn me numb.
It'll make me survive, so I let it.
Numb again, and yet I still ask,
"Does life have a purpose?"
"Does life have a purpose?" It certainly doesn't seem like it.
I think I'll throw up.
This anxiety has come out of nowhere,
And it's eating away at me.
Success finds me.
The committee shrieks in joy,
Coming to life again,
And I find myself in my own eyes again.
Happiness has returned.
I can smile again.
But this story doesn't end.
Life is no episode.
Because after the happiness comes everything else.
The committee decides I've had enough,
That it's going to throw my emotions around again,
Again, again, again,
Until I go insane.
I'm still tired.