Complaints

I'm tired. I'm tired of the snow, the cold, and the lifeless world outside my window. I'm tired of not being able to go, not being able to hold, not being able to rhyme. I'm tired of school, of work, of just sitting with nothing to do. I'm tired of being the last one to leave, of having to stay, of not being free. I'm tired not getting that 8 hours of sleep every night, of waking up before the sun just so I can sit inside all day and listen to the endless talk of old people. I'm tired of the endless torment of not being as good as those before me, of letting every one down, of not achieving what they think is inside me. I'm tired of worrying of the future, of worrying the past, of worrying of now. I'm tired of not being able to put my head down at night without thinking of all the possibilities of how I might have screwed up, of thinking of all the possible ways I can yet fail, and of all the possibilities to live the rest of my life. I'm tired of not knowing the end, of not understanding the present, of wondering why I am who I am. I'm tired of the uncertainty of life, of always questioning life. I'm tired of being tired of things.