Sometimes I sit down and think, “Is this all there is to life?”
Compartmentalize my feelings of sadness, joy, and excitement into boxes
Some of which stack higher than others and tumble down into subcategories
Times I was sad because of my period, because of school, because of ----

Other times I stand up and I don’t think, “I am completely satisfied with life.”
Because I am not
I look at cracked paint on walls and study the paths the minuscule crevices decided to take
So easily permanent and there

My head has established a tyranny of overthinking and anxiety that boxes with itself
Left, right, no left, up, maybe down, sideways, maybe
Too much to think and my brain can’t seem to understand there is still time to think
No decision has to be made about anything ever just yet not yet maybe

I understand time casts an infinite shadow
It forever runs out even though it’s nowhere near the finish line
It’s always running out
Always leaving me breathless