Some days it's hard not to hate myself

 
Some days it's hard not to hate myself
The constant state of constant failure
As if I didn’t take life seriously
As if tomorrow didn’t matter

Not even a case of Carpe diem
More like a fuck-this-shit issue

And all crumbles like a house of cards
But some cards didn’t seem to have existed

“The oeuvre was flawed from the start”
Said the old ghost strutting back in his chair
With this fingertips joined, he added
“Well well well, look who’s called”

Every time getting closer to the brink
The tiredness, the heaviness of existence
The energy and motivation getting lower
The wish to unbe turning to will
Waiting for the will to turn to dedication
Like swells heaving like heavy breaths

Fighting it still, but with less bravado
The élan dead longer than I thought

I am happy for my friends’ victories
“You are, but it doesn’t right the scales”
But I have none of my own
“Only soul-crushing defeats”

Yes, I am tired of being mediocre
And when I tried hard and failed
It was said I was unlucky
“But unluck can’t last this long, can it
It has to be something else”

I just want to be left alone now
And sleep it off, sleep for a long time
Long enough that I forget I’m sleeping
“What about the good old void
That would clear everything up”

I do not need a lot more persuasion
That it would be the best, yes
The timing makes sense, too

“Perhaps I won’t have to leave, this time”
No, perhaps you won’t have to.