It’s Not Easy To Not Feel

Hope. I didn't see it anymore. It didn't scare me that I couldn't get excited about getting out of bed. Who did? That alone didn't mean I was broken. It didn't frighten me that I made excuses to get out of social situations. Everyone did that on occasion to binge watch a show or just read a book. The fact that nothing made my pulse race was... dull. It was true, my life had kinda flatlined. And sure maybe it was weird that I didn't care enough to try to resuscitate it. Maybe all of that is what made me a fuckup. And who was I to pretend to see hope?