when I see myself in the mirror

am I seeing myself?

existential dread fills my brain

to the brim.

It's overwhelming.

I am going to die.

It will never get better.

What did I do to deserve this?

I didn't ask for this,

never asked to be born

into a world full

of questions and distractions.

Why am I here?

How am I here?

Why does everything seem so

important

when nothing is?

Why do the ideas of

art and love and life

appeal so many

when we all come to the same tragic

end?