It's the mornings that's toughest.
The feeling of emptiness that I wake up with instead of your GOOD MORNING text sets the tone for a day that's going to be lonely. I go through the morning chores almost reluctantly as if I'm left with no energy after a dreadful night of sleep full of sad dreams that gets me weary. As if the tears I actually drop throughout the day are not enough to acknowledge this pain and grief that I cry in the dreams too.
Mustering all my strength to live by day after day, but so little of it that I'm left with, even all of it falls short to take me through. A broken heart, a disturbed mind, even I doubt my lungs or the air quality, for I choke sometimes suddenly. I think there's a bit of pain in the air too, too much pollution you see.
Where have I come to be? Is this a bad dream or really reality? If it's the former somebody wake me up, please, and if it's the latter, change the fucking reality.