Coffee is too sweet.

I don’t think they did the extra shot.

It’s too loud.

All the voices sorta mix with the air,

and I can’t breathe the words.

I hate my job.

I hate my computer.

I hate the barista.

I don’t know why.

Everyone is staring at me.

No one notices me dying.

I glue myself to the corner,

like a feral beast trapped

in a shrinking cage.

My heart breaks through my eyes.

And the world falls in on me.

Why do I even bother?