Monday, June 29, 2009

I've never had a problem with Mondays, until now.  There is nothing more I hate than Mondays.  Because today, a Monday of course, I realize that I have nothing.  Many people don't have beds to sleep in, but I do.  Many people don't have enough clothes to wear, but I do.  The things I have are not enough.  The previous statement may sound selfish, but the truth is I don't want material possessions any longer.  What I ask for is simple.  But will I get it?

No.  It belongs to someone else.

At first I thought I could wait forever.  That's what I told myself, time and time again.  You will wait forever, if that's what it takes.  ...It already seems like forever.  Each day passes and I wonder, will I get through this?  Is there a way out?

No.  At least not as things are.  As each of those humiliating days goes by, it seems like there is less and less to hope for.  They grow stronger as I grow weaker.

I am left, belittled, shameful after each sob session spent alone in a public restroom, a phantom of my former self--- the happy and carefree me.  That me has gone for now; it's unsure when or if it will come back.  Because loving someone who doesn't love you in return is like suicide.

So here I am, asking myself if it's really worth it, to stay awake and trudge through the daylight hours.  I could be sleeping, dreaming of worlds that don't and never will exist.  It wouldn't even matter, because every single moment is just like the last.  Empty.

This is a letter to myself and everyone else who knows me.  One of recognition that my fight is over.  There is nothing left to work for.

For now, I will remain as I am, bleary-eyed and wasted on my own pity.