Vent

My head hurts, my body hurts

I feel a little weak, I'm pretty tired

I'm not doing much

Not much at all anything

I sit around doing practically nothing

But I am fearful

Every sound is another thought of what could go wrong

I could be dead right now

I could've died when I was born

I could be in a home invasion

I could've been assaulted

I could've gotten a disease

Anything would be happening right now.

Humans have 75 to 80 years to live life

It's not a lot at all

And you only decay as time goes on

I just wish to be happy

Yet I do nothing but think about the fact that I am dying as I type

I refuse to change despite wanting change

And once I do change, it'll be far to late

I'll be free one day