I sleep all right, but still I’m so tired. It’s that time of year, I guess. When the light wakes up before I do and hurts my eyes. Making mud from snow and hurrying the flowers up from their beds while I’m left way behind. I wish I was ready to flourish, I really do. But spring waits for nobody, and when reality comes around to shake me out like a dusty rug I manage nothing but falling to pieces. Springs are always the worst time of the year for me, so why would it be any different this time? There are so many things I’m sick and tired of. Never feeling good enough, for example. It seems to be fairly unrelated to accomplishments, too, which means there’s no way out of it even if I would manage to live a productive life. Not that it’s likely to happen. When just making it outside the front door is a struggle, how can I hope to contribute anything of consequence to the world?
Most of all I’m sick of being a student. And of smartphones.
We lie in bed
The wireless dancing through my head
Until I fear the space between my breath
I see an end to where I don’t love you like I can
Cause I’ve forgotten how it feels (amen)
To love someone or thing for real (amen)
Darling when you wake, remind me what we’ve done
That can’t be shared, or saved, or even sung
Love and moping,
Winterdragon
