why do we even try

its tiring
but not in the way that you may think.
not like writing a timed essay using a pencil with a grip made of concrete, no
instead its like mentally running a mile six times a day
that numbing incessant ring,
the dreaded buzz of the whistle demanding my poor brain do yet another lap

then coming home with lead steps
going up every stair with just another contraction of highly functioning muscles
just give out
shutting the door but cursing it for not being a proper door
and lacking the ability to lock itself.
theres always that alien silence during the transition

then a warm kind of safety takes over
the walls are comforting, and no one needs to pretend any more.
now, the sigh
loaded with all the insecurities and the failures and the melancholy that this is still reality
and that ladies and gentlemen, is a monster you cannot fool.
the Sigh, you see is the most important piece. 
when all the mental destruction of the day is translated into an audible puff
if you were to take an audio clip of these sighs every day and compile them,
well, you would be pretty creepy.
but you would also find that they tell a story.

perhaps the purest of stories-- revealing to you, listener and garageband aficionado, the most intimate and true emotion that i can communicate
more effective than any string of tiny words my jaded little brain can formulate.

sometimes, if the running is especially strenuous-- a tear will escape
the all too familiar hotness spreads throughout my face
and i pray my mom doesnt walk in.
she cant know she wouldnt be able to help she wont care its not worth it juststopitJUSTSTIOPITSTOPIT 

the air is still .
theres a fine line, dear friend, between being comforted by it and letting it turn you insane
i struggle with that, i do.
it gets frustrating when tissues balance themselves in the air and the wires of chargers curl in on themselves intricately
why won’t they just stop? just flop down and be normal.
maybe im jealous. that those worthless trinkets not even worth a second glance exhibit more life-like characteristics than i
the prospect that i am more flimsy than an ugly troll doll and less perky than my frizzy curls..
its unsettling.

but as long as my paint-chipped pendulum, the one i got for free when i bought a toaster at a yard sale, still swings,
i’ll keep Sighing.