Life has been dreadful enough lately trying to keep my mind off of shit when I'm busy working.
Night time is a different monster.
The walls have closed in ever so slightly,
And the road is just a little bit worse for wear than it was this morning.
My mind is in fight or flight,
But to fly is to die and to fight is to kill myself.
I've found myself counting the seconds of life that I have left,
And comparing them to the ways I wasted the seconds of life past.
Even now, writing this, I could be doing more.
I could be raising money, I could be on the front lines, I could be spreading awareness.
And instead I'm in the bunk of a semi truck,
Writing about my depression as if it'll make anything better.
