if my life was a book

I don't think I'd want to read it

the plot would be repetitive

and I'd get too bored to finish

a cycle of me loving,

me caring,

me wanting (really, deeply)

then me on my own and doing nothing

the moment I shut the door to my bedroom

always the same thing

shutting down, stepping away,

closing my eyes

sinking down in a puddle of blankets and guilt

until I work myself into a panic

because why am I still doing nothing

I could do anything I want

(a minute ago I wanted so much)

now I can't

seem

to care

I don't want to live this anymore

still I know it'll always be the same