leave me in peace

it's been a while, writing poetry

it's hard when you're busy with things much less important to you

who cares about bills and psychiatry appointments?

i want to sit and watch tv and write my life for others to consume.

i don't think about him anymore

i think about my shaking hands, my bouncing legs, my racing heart-

life is hard when you're constantly in fight-or-flight.

why do we insist on living? please understand i don't want to die but

living is so tough, so painful

i don't know about other people's experiences

but for me, it's pain with happy moments few and far between

so is it worth it?

i sit at a desk and wait for other people to tell me what to do

i sit in my bed and wait for my phone to beep

i sit on my couch and disassociate, imagining scenarios that will never be.

i want to be a good writer, i want to create beautiful moments people will read

but the world is turning dark, and people are much less interested.