Too Much

Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it.

All this suffering, all those sleepless nights, over the years their effects have accumulated and their consequences are marked dark on my face. I feel them upon my eyelids. Heavy, weighty, weary, they just want to close, and my brain, saturated with newly acquired knowledge, pulsing from the tediousness of the task, simply wants to rest. And this is always.

My brain is tired. My body is tired. I am tired. I want to sleep. I want to rest. I want to be given the chance to live.

I want to be happy.

Is that too much to ask?

But I am afraid they have asked too much of me.

And they have asked. It is not my fault. If you are about to die, are you asked if you would like to be saved? For me, for people like me, this is the only option.

A textbook is now my pillow. The lightbulb is now my moon. I no longer see the darkness. And I don't dream anymore. I can't dream anymore. There isn't enough time for dreams.

Is that right?

This is the life I live in hope of having a happy future.

But what about now?

Will I even get that far?

With no guarantees in this world...

It's just too much...