There’s always something I should be doing.
Homework,
Laundry,
Cleaning my room.

But I blink at the ceiling
and whisper
“I’ll do it later”

It’s not that I don’t care.
It’s not that I don’t want to try.
I just don’t have the energy to carry my own weight today.
Tomorrow, maybe.
Maybe.

Deadlines come and go like passing trains I never catch, And I sit on the platform, Telling myself,
“The next one, I’ll get on the next one”

My phone buzzes,
Messages pile up,
Reminders go off like alarms in a burning building.
I mute them all.

I’ll do it later.

It’s not just laziness.
It’s not rebellion.
It’s just this fog, this endless, heavy fog that wraps around my limbs and Makes every task feel like a mountain.

The guilt hits at night, when everything’s still and there’s no one left to lie to but myself.

I promise ill change,
I promise I’ll try.

But in the morning,
I wake up and,
“I’ll do it later”
Is the first thought.
My first lie.

And the worst part is,
I’m tired of running from things I never even started.