Word Vomit #1

i found this in my notes on my phone and it still feels relevant so lmao here it is

Every day is its own struggle.

The future seems too distant,

Overwhelming and a bit bleak

It’s murky, I’m not sure what to make of it yet 

I still don’t know how to cope with things

Healthily, at least 

I consume copious amounts of food,

Some days to fill the void,

And other days to sort of punish myself 

I'm very tired -- every day 

I can wake, be still, and bleed exhaustion

I don’t feel afraid 

Elation is foreign, too 

I’m just a body 

Plagued with consciousness 

And seemingly inescapable misery 

I know I sound dramatic

Which is why I’m hesitant to speak

But on behalf of my thoughts and I

We are scattered, fatigued, and weak