Can I Live?
Am I living?. There are moments when I am tired.
Tired, beyond the physical tensions my body consistently feels and still isn't used to.
Tired, of the uphill endeavors to climb to the mountain top of utopia.
Tired, of the failed tries that sits me down in caves. I find no warmth there. No fire and no blanket can produce the sleep and satisfaction of my aspirations.
Tired, of maintaining a grip while seeing your hands slip.
Tired, of the confidence I place my hope in. That is my sole betrayer. I am the only one to blame.
Tired, of hoping I will develop into someone else. No created persona can ever reflect the dreamed man I try to become.
Tired, of the tries that leaves me tired. I have nothing else to give. What do you want from me? What do you expect? Leave me alone.
Tired, of reaching for something else. While tired, of what I have. I am not satisfied with where I am or who I am. Where is the promise existence that brings joy and confidence? Creator, is this the existence that you wanted me to share in? Where victory? Where triumph? Why do they hide? Why are their friendships found in the lives of the living and not mine?
I come to the point that I am not living. I am not alive. My breath decieves me. My laugh betrays me. Sleep wiskeys me to nothingness. I enjoy that nothingness. I awake with drunken anger with its crust in my mouth. Back to work on this life of mine. Living has become a job. Sleep is where I clock out. But I never see where the wages of of the hours I put in. "Where my money at?"
My sleep is where there are no aspirations. No dreams. No wants. No desires. No hopes. I have enough dreams waiting for me when I awake. I am tired of dreaming. I am tired of thinking.
Im here.
I want to see the world's end now. If He is life, I want to see Him. I am tired of being tired. I want life. Can I live? Can I live now?
