every morning, the same

Every morning is the same.
No energy.
No passion.
No happiness.

Too soon.
Too fast.
My legs are heavy.
My brain is foggy.
Cannot see light.
Cannot see anything.
Do not want to see anything.

My stomach turns itself.
I do not know if I am hungry or satiated.
Or maybe I just have not fully digested yet.

Standing under the shower.
Standing before the finished lunchbox.
Dissociating again and again.
Trapped in my dreamworld.
Not done with processing yet.

Standing at the sink,
the toothbrush unconsciously shoved down my throat.
Quickly brushing my hair and putting on my clothes.
I stare into the darkness and know:
It will be just as dark when I get home again.

No sunlight anymore.
Only artificial, blending light.
No birdsongs anymore.
Only buzzing cars and gabbling humans.
No colorful flowers anymore.
Only gray houses and clouds.

I want to return.
Return to my bed.
Return to the earth.
Return to where it is quiet and peaceful.