it starts in the morning, i drag myself out of bed
oh how much strength it takes to get out of bed.
nothing to look forward to, nothing to motivate me to get through the day
it drags on with all the things i could be doing better, i hate this day.

sometimes i feel like sleep and writing are my only escapes
sometimes i think even of making the escapes of all escapes.
no i am not depressed, this is just a little rough patch
i know it will get better, my whole life will not be this little rough patch.

sometimes i wonder who will miss me if i went away
people tell me not to say that, those thoughts do not just go away.
i wish you understood what a hard life this is
life could be worse, yes. but i think my life is.