Waking up and dreaming of bedtime.
I go to the things, do the necessary, yet I am not there. Not really.
Looking for something, anything, to awaken that fire. My spark for life extinguished.
How can I be two faces. No one can know so no one can care.
They don’t know there’s any need to.
Maybe there isn’t.
Oh how my heart longs to beat with purpose, instead of beating so sluggishly it takes effort to simply survive.
I am so very lucky I know, but that just add to the feeling of sorrow. To be ungrateful is not something to be strived for.
Waking up, standing tall, breathing in and out…yet quietly, so very quietly, screaming inside.
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