Ill

I sleep most of the day,

I like sleeping.

I barely eat.

I have to force myself,

At least once a day.

Is this living?

Or am I just alive?

Sometimes I call it healing...

“Healing”?

Tired, fearful and avoidant,

Numbing me...

Perhaps surviving?

I’m just comfortable to say

“I am ill”

Nothing to be happy about,

Yet I find comfort in it.

At least my little victory:

I did not indulge in self destruction...

I am not going deeper..

deeper.. deeper...