LIFE

 Ah, life—the generous giver.

Always teasing me with dreams,
Wrapped in pretty packaging,
Labeled “Hope” and “Happiness,”
Only to reveal dust and disappointment inside.
How thoughtful.

I walk toward the promised green,
And surprise—it’s a desert again.
Classic.

I know I’m not perfect—who is?
But when I love, I offer the whole damn heart.
No fine print, no holding back.
And what do I get?
A standing ovation?
No.
Just more demands.
Be more patient.
Be more understanding.
Be less... you.

In every relationship—romantic, friendly, family—
It’s the same game:
Guess how much of yourself you can erase
Before they’re finally satisfied.

But don’t worry, I’m adapting.
I’ve learned to say,
“Sure, do whatever makes you happy,”
While I sit here, freezing behind my own walls.

This new attitude?
Oh, it’s a hit.
Turns out emotional detachment
Looks a lot like maturity these days.

And tears? They’re my morning coffee,
My bedtime lullaby.
Soothing. Consistent.
At least something in life sticks around.

I look in the mirror
And see someone so easy to love—
Said no one ever.

But hey, maybe it’s me.
Maybe being “too much”
Or “too empty”
Is exactly the problem.

Still, I keep showing up,
Like a bad punchline
In a joke no one’s laughing at.