The light creeps its way behind my eyelids, prying them open with a crowbar of anxieties.  

Fatigue grips me without missing a beat, picking up where sleepiness left off. 

I'm done with the constantly empty tank, which won’t fill no matter how much sleep I get. 

Stuck in concrete, I try to get up. Everything is thawing in a wave of icy fire. 

Every bone in my body is broken. Please, please let me go, I plead. 

I'm done with dragging myself out of bed because I have to, not because I want to. 

A hollow shell- no joy, no purpose, no will, no life, no dreams. 

I force my gaze to the mirror, eyes crusted and glazed over. 

I'm done with not recognizing who I’ve become over the last seven years, a new character. 

Disgusting is the only word my mind can offer up today. 

How is it even possible to be this hideous? This fat? 

I'm done with the prick of shame whenever anyone sees me, or when windows offer reflections. 

My jeans are stiff and dusty, sweats worn and rank. 

My breath is fresher than I've felt in years. 

I'm done with the matted hair I haven’t brushed in a month, thinking ‘maybe tomorrow’. 

It's only been twenty minutes 

since this torture began. 

I'm done with living like this. No, actually I think I’m just done living.