I wake up with momentum Like I’m meant to move. But there’s nowhere I want to go. The day stretches wide open. Too quiet. Too slow. Static in my brain, dull pulse in my veins, Nothing feels sharp enough to cut through the gray. Every option flickers like a screen. Bright for a second, then routine. I start the climb before I choose the hill, Fall in love with motion, never with the will. I don’t fear failing, I fear the drag. The weight of caring when the thrill dies of lag. Tabs open in my head, I never close one, Half-built ambitions still waiting to be done. I want the rush, not the discipline, Craving the spark, avoiding the burn-in. Too much time and a thousand ways To waste another day. If I never commit, I never lose. Indecision’s the safest excuse. Suspended in maybe, comfortably numb, Waiting for something that never comes. I want to do something, I just don’t know what, An arrow with no target, a thought half-caught. I chase every impulse just long enough To convince myself I almost gave a fuck. I’m addicted to open-ended design, Where nothing is chosen and everything’s mine. I want a direction that cuts through the blah, But every direction feels equally far. Every hour hums the same low tone, Not pain, just nothing I can call my own. I scroll for a pulse, I scroll for a sign, Anything louder than killing time. I flirt with obsession, then let it fade, Bored of the effort commitment takes. I want to want it—that’s the truth, But what I start dies in the follow-through. Why is it that I'm bored to the bone, Too tired to chase, too restless alone. Just too much choice and too little fire, A restless body with no real desire. What do you want? I don’t know. Where do you go? I don’t know. What are you waiting for? I don’t know. What do you actually want? ... I don't know. I fill my time so I don’t feel "meh," Noise in my head just to drown the "blegh." Keep every door cracked open just in case, But never step through, never take my place. I’m not lost. I’m not found. Just circling the same old ground. I change the music, change the screen, Change the room, but nothing changes me. I fill the hours, kill the time Tear through another borrowed high I swear I’ll make myself commit Then lose interest and fucking quit I keep waiting for something to stick, For some stupid little spark to hit. But every time I think I’ve found the flame, I lose my damn interest all the same.. I want to do something, I just don’t know what, An arrow with no target, a thought half-caught. I chase every impulse just long enough To convince myself I almost gave a fuck. I’m addicted to open-ended design, Where nothing is chosen and everything’s mine. I want a direction that cuts through the blah, But every direction feels equally far. Movement without meaning. Desire without flame. Too many choices... All feel the same. So I sit. Then I scroll. Then I stare at the clock. Think about moving. Don't move... Think about moving. Don't do it... Think about moving. Don't... If I never choose, I never lose. So I drift... ... and call it living.
