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Dreams die. You settle for what you can get. Your soul dies. Hope dies. You become empty. Life loses color, meaning, pleasure. You will never be among the fortunate, the chosen, the wanted. Yet you keep going because what else is there to do? You're afraid to kill yourself, but too drained to be able to truly live. And trust? What is that? It's something you remember, but you can no longer experience.



So what do you do? Can this be fixed? Medication is a crutch, one which often breaks and no longer works after awhile. Therapy tries to teach you coping mechanisms, but sometimes life is simply too much. There is no coping, only existing.



So you exist, and you look out onto the world through dimmed eyes. You fear, yet even your fear has a dull edge. You think through a mind you know is dampened by grief. And you keep putting one foot in front of the other because, no, hope has not died completely, but you cannot talk to it, or see it, or feel it. It's sleeping in another room.



You wonder if you might be better off if hope did completely die. Hope can be a cruel mistress, and disappointment is your punishment for continuing to believe her.

COMMENTS

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Tristesse
10:26 Aug 01 2016

I cannot help but "feel" these words...

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