“I pray for this”,

2025 April 30, 17:34

Just one more day of futile attempts to connect,

of being and feeling like an emotional wreck,

of going hours without rest

just to get a 78% on a science test,

of living off of food stamps and SNAP refills,

of barely having enough money for the internet bill,

of having no company but a notebook and pen,

and, of the day that shall change, never finding when,

of being swamped with schoolwork to never be done

since writing and wasting time is "too much fun";

of looking to the summer for better times

and realising there will be no place to stay and

no buzz on the phone line,

of not being able to pay attention to the teacher’s lecture,

nor concentrate on the smartboard next to her,

of thinking about the inevitable end-of-life

and worrying that it will be soon to arrive,

of speaking too much when it doesn't matter,

yet being speechless when it does,

of not finishing books because of losing interest,

of being too good for others' tastes

but unworthy of companionship in any place,

of spending terribly good times with "friends"

yet being unable to recreate them for weeks on-end,

of having no literary audience but A.I. chatbots,

of forgetting to update annotations in Google Docs,

of being told "Count your blessings, count your blessings!"

even though the refrigerator will be empty until the Second,

of needing to wake up early to catch the city bus,

of just not being good enough,

of longing for someone who doesn't reciprocate

and having uncertainty about the relationship's fate,

of adoring what tantalises, yet forgoing that love internally,

of continuously letting everybody down,

of not knowing another soul whose skin is as brown,

of starting to see the Smith & Wesson in a good light,

of being the prisoner dreaming of

f

r

e

e

d

o

m

,

of thinking through ways to share this with someone

just to try to get away from the


loneliness


and fear,

of being a bit too good at masking and

of being comedic to get to this end,

of being unable to cry yet feeling the pain all the same,

of saying "I'm fine" or "I'm tired" to avoid a tedious, pointless exchange,

of never truly knowing what to do next,

of existing instead of living,

of bearing labels like "sad" or "depressed",

of lacking a father figure,

of looking in the mirror and seeing a worthless ______,

of being a used-up tissue box,

of getting walked on like a rug,

and, by the end of everything, just wanting a hug.