Evenings used to be comforting,
Swaddled in the peachy sunset
Or laying out on the grass.

Sometimes, they were tempestuous
I would sit in the thunderstorms and cry
Until my soul felt poured out into the Earth.

Every night now I stare
At question papers,
studying
struggling
because my idea of complete satisfaction
Does not even slightly adhere to a commercial world's.

I know I'm good enough, and it's exhausting to keep proving it