Would I be happier than this?

I stay up late finishing work that would be better done in the morning. 

Sitting at my desk,

the moon makes its way through the sky, 

and I fall into bed as the light begins to dance along the horizon. 

As I drift into a half-sleep stupor I wonder how life would be,

if I knew how to get what I wanted.  

I used to dream of a life like the one I have,

but I was still a little girl who did not know how hard life would be. 

I wonder what it would be like if I had followed my heart across the ocean. 

Would I be happier than this? 

Barely surviving day after day,

living for the small moments on weekends when I can resurface into the bright living world.

Seeing my friends hardly ever happens anymore, 

and I don’t remember what a good night's rest feels like. 

In my world, I can’t let them see how much I don’t want to be here or anywhere,

I can’t let them know how each thing finished feels no less satisfying than a cloudy day with a chance of rain. 

I wish I could sail to the ends of the ocean and back again, 

to be paid for what I love to do, 

paid for what I dream of doing.

And oh how badly I wish the glaring computer screen would fill itself with words, 

and oh how badly I wish for everything to end and for this to just all go away and for life to change in the blink of an eye. 

So I stay up too late,

and drink espresso with two spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of milk.