Not for Nothing
I lose hours
in thoughts that keep howling
and minutes
trying to remember
how to be a person.
They ask if I’ve been sleeping.
I say “sometimes.”
they ask if I’ve been eating.
I say “technically.”
They don’t ask
if my brain screams when it’s quiet.
They don’t ask
if I’m tired of pretending I’m not tired.
My highs come with strings attached,
my lows don’t knock before entering.
And somewhere in the middle
is me—
faking normal,
scheduling meltdowns
between deadlines and dinner.
People say it’s brave,
to keep going.
But sometimes
it’s just inertia.
Sometimes it’s fear
of how much worse stopping might feel.
And sometimes
it’s just that I already brushed my teeth,
and I don’t want that to be
for nothing.