Sometimes

It's hard to think sometimes
When everything feels like nothing
And the air in my lungs
Feel like a figment of my imagination
Keeping my eyes open gets tiring
But even closing them is getting old
When I'm tired of waking up
To a world that remains cold
Feeding my body
Quenching my thirst
Trying my best
To be there for myself first
But for what reason? I don't know
It doesn't help that no one else does either
Why do we keep trying so hard?
And raise our brows at suicide whilst we suffer?
I'll never understand it
And for those it may concern, I will say to you:
No, I am not going to end it.
But I won't pretend I haven't wanted to