Lazy Days

More like journal entry than poem

My lazy days. 

The empty ones. The ones when my mind works the most and when it doesn’t work at all. Where everything seems so distant, as distant as the moon. Even when I hold my baby in my arms, the guilt I feel for sometimes not loving at all. 

I had better ones. Long ago. When I was innocent, and the world wasn’t cold. The days when I believed that good things happen to good people. I didn’t believe in evil, or in malice. I believed those only existed in the stories I read or in the movies I watched. But then the blind from my eyes was violently lifted feeling every cell of my body go cold and then numb.

The numbness stayed with me. Its always present. Sometimes its just a small part in my head but other days it takes over me whole. I lose interest in things, and I stop doing things I know I should keep doing like going to class. But it’s this indifference in me that I know it’s not healthy, but it has a grip on me and won’t let me be. 

Or maybe I’m just really lazy and keep making excuses for my bad decisions. It’s an ongoing occurrence since many years ago and I couldn’t stop it then, so I can’t now. It just comes and goes as it pleases. Without a warning, without a sign and I’m left with all this guilt that stays behind. 

My lazy days. I had better ones. And I can’t remember the rest. No in between I’m either here or I’m not. I can do it. I know I can but there is something in me bigger than myself that won’t let me think clearly. Or maybe its just me being lazy.