I am not as enthusiastic anymore.
I am not awake, but not asleep.
I am tired, lately. Tired of this place,
these feelings, this everything.

I am not eager or excited.
I am not-filled-up.
I am disinterested in you, in them, in everyone.

Yes, you.

I am angry.
You are condescending.
You are loud and obnoxious.
You are blind, and you don't notice a thing.
You don't listen.

I am angry. I am shaking.
I am itching for a chance to get out.
I am itching for a chance to make you
feel bad. To make you care. To make you realize.
To make you understand.

To make it better.

You haunt my sleep, you stop my breathing.
You haunt my dreams when I'm not sleeping.