There is living and surviving

Or so I've heard it said.

And I wonder

Is this living

Or am I surviving

In this hollow shell I call my home?

Is it living to wonder if you are happy

And is it living to discover you're not?

Is it living to feel your eyes go dry

Because you've spent the last of your tears?

Or is it surviving to feel this way

And never feel quite full

Full of love

Full of life

Full of happiness

And still deny yourself right to complain?

Is it surviving to always wonder

If it ever gets better?