echoes of us

My body

drowning in a

hoodie and sweatpants

knowing it won't

and can't

muster the energy

to get up.

Not that I

need to.

It's the middle

of the night.

But it seems

When you’re trapped

in a place you can’t escape,  

routines that never end,

drowning under piles of paper, 

with the deafening sounds 

of endless haunting expectations 

Sometimes

I question why

I do things.

Sometimes

I question why

other people

do things.

Sometimes