In short, nothing. I have nothing to live for. I am only alive because living is easier than dying.

I don't really live

I'm not really alive

I am only concious

and awake

for this finite life of mine

because my heart

stubbornly continues to beat

I don't really live

I just spend my days

my weeks

my months

not dying

I don't really live

I continue

waking up every morning

simply because

the sun shines in my eyes

I get out of bed

simply because

my mother drags me

by the ankle

excited and curious she asked me,

"what get's you up in the morning?"

i forced a grin

and through my teeth i simply lied

"i just have so many things to look forward to."