I’m not sure I exist.

I’m not sure I exist. I’m not sure I’m real. I’m not sure anything exists.

I’m not sure my life has meaning. I’m not sure I have a purpose. I’m not sure I care anymore.

I’m not sure I care about my health. I’m not sure I care about my career. I’m not sure I care about my future.

I’m not sure I have any motivation left. I’m not sure I have any hope left. I’m not sure I have a drive to survive.

I’m not sure I’ll ever start eating better. I’m not sure I’ll ever start exercising. I’m not sure I’ll ever work just to pay bills ever again.

If I am lazy, I can accept that label. If I am a failure, I can accept that label. If I don’t have goals, aspirations or dreams I feel compelled to pursue, I can accept whatever label is applied.

I’m not sure I belong anymore. I’m not sure I have anything to give. I’m not sure this world needs me.

I’m not sure I have anything left. I’m not sure I will ever fit. I’m not sure I can be normal.

I’m not sure the wild in me will ever be conquered. I’m not sure this life is worth it. I’m not sure I’ll ever be sure about anything ever again.