The Truth Is…

 
…I’m exhausted

Because I cried myself to sleep last night

And although I don’t talk about it
I think about suicide almost every day

I wonder if I’ll ever be happy

I am torn and conflicted

I still love a woman I met a decade ago
But she’ll probably never know

I look at a photo of her and I every day

And it’s probably silly of me
But I’m only human

I keep picking myself up
Forcing myself awake and out of bed every day

Just to repeat the same motions of monotony

And everyone expects me to carry on
And to be okay

…But I’m not