Inconsistent

I’m blown away by my ability to feel It rattles my core. It’s raw and real But then there are days, without even trying I’m numb on the inside. My empathy, dying Often times, I’m clever, unparalleled wit Then others, I’m blank, I simply forget Unwillingly, it seems, I omit basic skills Left sweating and fretting and spinning my wheels I’m up or down. Either proud or ashamed One day to the next, I’m never the same