Self-pity uses a surprisingly large amount of energy;
I wish I could explain how it hurts to get out of bed
but it’s one of those things you can’t understand
unless you’ve felt it.

We are not lazy. We are not bored.
We do not lack passion;
We lack life
but not want of life -
there’s a difference.

Now, I’ll leave you to imagine all the ways in which I could be your version of better:
there’s a letter lying on the floor that
I should have sent a week ago.

Maybe one day I’ll stitch myself up to create something
mildly resembling something useful
and get everything done well, and - more importantly - in time.

But for now? Well, time flies when you’re miserable as hell.