Existential Crisis

Sometimes my hair turns to a weed
Tangling my emotions, getting 12 hours of sleep
The only thing I can accomplish each day is getting dressed
From sweatpants to sweatpants, but I’m really not depressed.

I just have nothing to keep me busy,
And the lack of motion makes me feel dizzy.
And I get sick to my stomach when I think about the mess,
And everything I have to face one day, what’s the point? But I’m really not depressed.

It’s not that I’m down or hopeless or suffering.
But I’m watching myself through the meaningless motions while the time is buffering.
It’s not that I want to die; I just feel out of place I guess.
I don’t have the energy to end my life; But I’m really not depressed.

You see, everything else has direction, and I should have never existed.
And that’s not a bad thing; nothing is, from what I’ve listed.
I could use human touch but that’s temporary convalesce
And when I think about dying it just seems right; But really I’m not depressed.

It’s hard to explain, even I don’t understand.
I’m not numb, I can feel; yes I’m not happy nor am I sad.
Like I said, I’m just here; no more, no less.
I’m on the outside looking in and I’m simply done-
So I’m really not depressed.

I could say I am scared; for death I do not fear
I know it’s wrong, but I don’t care, that I’m hoping it is near.
And not because I can’t handle this; rather I’ve seen everything in the span of one rest, everything but death.
But truly, I mean seriously, I’m really not depressed.