For many days,

many weeks, many months, and many years

I lay in bed,

I attempt to sleep,

I try not to be anxious for the next day;

but my eyes are stubborn.

What awaits me the next day?

What do I have to be anxious about?

Wondering this to myself,

I shut my eyes;

but still, they are stubborn.

I have nothing to do.

I have no job.

I don’t have school for a while.

I have all the food in the world;

so I do not have to go shopping.

I shut my eyes;

and yet, still they are stubborn.

Maybe it’s not the next day,

or the lonely night,

or the crickets,

that make my eyes stubborn;

maybe it is I myself who is stubborn.