Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Birthdays and namedays and keepsakes



So many people have lost me and they haven't realised I am not there anymore.
They 've lost me because they are petty and jealous and ungrateful. They are worse than ungrateful actually; they try to harm me while I have only done them good. But that's humans for you.
Most of the time that I press on I have no idea why.
I've settled in a life of quiet desperation and all I do is count my blessings.
I still love. I still care. Or I pretend I do. When I caress my cats, half of the time I do it because I know they need it and I don't want to let them down.
But I am so tired.
Tired to my bones. Tired to my very soul.
Tiredness is combined with bouts of mania and desire, where I do one million things to avoid thinking. Or I download pictures from the internet and look at all those things, places, people I cannot have and get more depressed.
There are days I can see the world in all its ugliness, destruction and decomposition.
I see me for the disgusting sack of meat that I am, for the death waiting to happen, for the old age setting in, for wasted chances and potential and absolute lack of anything noteworthy. I think that if I was to die tomorrow, all that would be written on my tombstone would be, "she tried".  
Of course, we live in a society that success is not measured by effort, but achievement.
And there are days I look inside and it's so beautiful. Everything makes much more sense in there. Just next to the tower of abyss where my dark side is having one of her usual parties, there is so much beauty. I feel like a person deprived of speech that hosts paradise, and so I write, and write, and write, and pretty much nothing changes.
I just write. And then I read what I've written. And it's good, or I think it's good. And I pat myself on the back for it. Well done.
And I go back to my life of quiet desperation.
I wish I wasn't as strong and I had given up already.
I wish I was already dead.
And then my friend's words come to my mind, and she said to me, in one of her letters, we've crawled through every road in hell, and we never gave up.
And she said to me that all she has stayed back for are her rabbits, because she doesn't trust a single soul to take care of them. Don't laugh, that's as valid a reason as any.
I just wish I had given up already.
That's all.
But there are so many out there with less than I have.
And so I count my blessings and press on.

2 comments:

Bruno Albuquerque said...

And please, keep pressing on! You're very loved. There are too much ugliness out there; there are too many trustless souls out there; there's so much pain, so much war, devastation, but there'll always be someone caring for you.
"Whenever you feel you mean nothing to the world, just remember that you might mean the world to someone". And that's it, love!
That's truly and pret much it!

Noelle said...

I've felt these feelings myself many times. I've stayed behind for the sake of my cats, and then, when I could take no more, abandoned them, left them with my ex and fled. I won't forgive myself for that, but it was my only option for survival. We do what we can, what we have to, eventually, to survive... or not. I hope you find what it is you need in life. I can tell from your blog that you're a good writer, so that alone is enough to keep on keeping on, in spite of the ungratefuls who can't see your worth. There are those of us who can.