Why is existing so exhausting?

Connecting starlight over rooftops,
Pleading to save my soul.
I look to the night sky to make me feel whole.
Perhaps it's the beauty
Or is it its presence?
When all else fails to be,
It is.

I was broken, and there you were existing.

and here comes the day when she no longer can feel her soul, the lullabies of her atom that used to move every substances inside her reckless personification. she is numb, but no longer have intention to overcome it. she was there, breathing, exsisting.

It’s hard,
Wanting someone who doesn’t even know you exist.
A world full of people, and you chose them.
And they choose their person,
Who doesn’t even know they exist.

I put my voice under a light not knowing that it would burn to a crisp, and all you would hear would be the weakening growls of an animal refusing to die. I thought I had to speak to exist, when all one should ever have to do is be.

To understand is to focus. Yet
how do we focus if the
norms keep changing. Do we then
understand change without focus,
just a chaotic spinning existence. Or,
is the quest to understand just a question of
how to understand? Understand what?
I hate the word understand and all it stands for.
I prefer feeling which is true understanding.
You can’t understand love but you can feel it.
We know how we feel but don’t understand why.
Maybe life is a question of why,
a constant question in the fools errand
of trying to understand. This piece
is about confusion. It is confused. There is
the need to ramble without direction or sense.
Every poet needs to stream thoughts. That
stream will make no sense to him/her or to
the reader. If you understand that
you don’t understand, then, I guess,
that’s understanding.