“Okay.”

“How are you doing today?”

But your day started centuries ago,

When you woke yourself up at 3AM,

Stressed about doing nothing, 

but too tired to do anything.

You lie, still in bed, listening to your alarm clock,

Each ring, another crazed scream.

And by the time you finally stand up, 

you long to lie back down and close your eyes, 

dreaming for change, 

only to wake back up,

Right where you started.

You walk into school, dreading to hear 

what’s been missed, 

and what more needs to be done.

Tested like a lab rat, 

Whose white hair you found growing on your head this morning

And furiously ripped out, 

disappointed at what you’re becoming.

You leave after sitting in class

The bells bleed together, just like the formulas on the board.

You squint from miles away, 

Unable to tell if you’re blinded by confusion or tears.

Your backpack feels heavy, 

but the weight of knowing you have more hours of work than there are in the day is heavier. 

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

But tomorrow might as well be today.

“How are you doing today?” 

“Okay.”

You’re not.