you are the scab I pick
             though I know
                   I will bleed

It's okay, I tell myself.
It's almost over.
My day.
My week.
My year.
My life.
When will I stop anticipating the end?
When can I finally enjoy something?
Please tell me because I need a little hope.

happiness has become a thing so seemingly reachless
if happiness is the purpose of life
then what else are we to do

i think we are all just trying to drown a little slower