Morning happens without asking
Like a mistake that won’t apologize
The ceiling waits for me to move
I don’t
It wins
I don’t feel sad
Sad would mean something mattered
This is just weight—
The kind that doesn’t bruise
The kind that makes standing feel unnecessary
The thought doesn’t come as panic
It comes as logistics
As math
As the clean idea
That fewer things would exist
If I didn’t
People say it gets better
Like weather they won’t be around to see
They say you’re not alone
But they go home anyway
I am surrounded by evidence
That I am optional
There’s no voice telling me to die
That would require effort
It’s quieter than that—
Just the absence of a reason
To continue performing consciousness
I imagine not waking up
And feel nothing
Not relief
Not fear
Just the end of noise
Like turning off a machine
That was never useful
I sit with that thought
Until it loses its shape
Until it becomes background radiation—
Always there
Never urgent
Never leaving
I don’t choose life
I don’t reject death
I simply fail to act
Again
If I’m here tomorrow
It won’t mean anything changed
It will mean time moved forward
And forgot to take me with it
That’s it
That’s the story
No lesson
No growth
No light waiting its turn
Just this:
The body continues
After the will has resigned
And somehow...
That’s enough
To keep the lights on