#2am writing

You used to be everything to me, then all at once, you became nothing at all.

I’m kind of considering suicide again

I’m kind of considering suicide again.

It’s not that I’m getting worse

I’m just not getting better

It’s been months, hell it feels like it’s been years

And it’s managed to remain a long

Empty

Numb

Tunnel.

It’s been a blank canvas set up on a easel

But never painted

A new google doc pulled up on a student’s laptop

But not started

A guitar with no strings

If it was going to get better would it not

Already be okay?

Or at least not as bad as it’s been

I find myself listening to “The night we meet”

And “The scientist”

Reminding me of how these feelings

Have been before

And just keep coming again

Why should I keep trying?

Why should I keep fucking trying?