Most days.
I can't really explain it.
I will need you to work with me.

Most days.
I can't see in front of me.
My eyes feel like they're cracking open.

Most days.
I can't write a simple word.
The letters get mixed up and my hands too shaky.

Most days.
I can't breathe or speak or even function.
I'm drowning but nobody notices because I'm good the motions.

Most days.
I can't get rid of the cold in my hands.
I compress a fist, so the cold hurts, and nails pinch my palm.

Some days.
I can live wonderfully.
But then again that's not most days.