Candy Apples

I’m tired a lot more these days. Everything was too much. I moved my eyeballs, and I'd groan from extreme exertion. I moved my legs, and I'd become nauseous. Or maybe that’s because I’m too tired to eat. I don’t know. I really don’t know much of anything. I feel listless, lifeless; like a corpse. I don’t call my bed a bed any more. It’s my coffin, because I can’t be alive; this has to be what death feels like.