Sad Gaana

Somewhere between tired self-deprecation and a sudden rebellion against everything around, this state exists - when it seems funny, but actually, it's not really anymore. When the jokes about "struggle" and "I won't do it again" are hiding that very exhale: "How much more of this can there be?" The world seems to be spinning, but inside I'm already slightly overheated, my eyes are red, my voice is hoarse, and my mood is fluctuating between stand-up comedy and 3 AM philosophy. Sarcasm here acts like armor: a thin layer that keeps it all within the bounds of fun, even tho underneath lies exhaustion, stretched out like gum after a shift. And the louder "look at my face" sounds, the clearer it is that looking there is probably scary. But okay, we laughed, made some noise, and pretended again that we live easily. Because if you don't shout into the microphone, who will even know you're still hanging on?