It’s hard
when you don’t know where you’re going
But you’re still traveling fast.
It’s hard
when you’re forcing food down a stomach that’s normally hungry 24/7
And the only “reasonable” explanation your brain can give for why you aren’t hungry
Is that you’re too sad.
Or maybe,   
        that you’re traveling too fast.
                                         One of the two.
It’s hard
when you don’t know why you’re feeling so tired, this time.
You can’t move, you can’t sleep, you can’t live your life.
It’s hard
when you’re so full of contradictions that you don’t know what’s true.
You are, and you’re not. You’re cold in a room that’s hot.
You’re so full of nothingness that you feel like you’re about to explode.
But I don’t really mean explode, you see,
because you’re actually too empty for that.
Or maybe,
                  too tired.
                                         One of the two.
It’s hard
when you don’t know what’s wrong with you;
What tiny piece of your clockwork is so broken that it’s throwing every part of you into endless oblivion.
It’s also hard
               when you know the explanation
For all of the above, but no one
believes or understands or wants to talk about
Your crippling depression.
Or maybe,
                  your endless oblivion.
                                         One of the two.