what made us think that we were wise

sleepless nights and tired eyes are catching up with me. listening to songs with notes that tug at the heartstrings, over and over until they play by themselves in my mind. too much work, too little time. too many silences and too many headaches. sometimes i wish i could strangle you with my bare hands (except i would never really wish that, never ever). head in my hands, hands on my arms, arms on my elbows, elbows on my desk-- i'm like a statue that only moves when you're not looking. burnt bulbs and darkened rooms make the inside no more inviting than the cold outside. it's the middle of april but it still doesn't feel like the spring. it's cold in my hallway and it's cold in my heart. i layer on the sweatshirts but nothing seems to warm me up. it feels like nowhere is safe anymore. i just keep waiting for the sun to come out tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow-- but that tomorrow never really comes.