Here I stand. Wishing. Waiting. Praying for the day to come to a close and for tomorrow not to show. Here I stand deserted and alone. I remember the genuine smiles and the laughter of a life worth living. I replay the memories in my mind and wonder why. Why there are so few now compared to the past. Was it because of my personality? Have I become someone who is unable to communicate, to love, to feel, to know. Have I disappeared into the shadow of my former self?
I thought I understood loneliness but I realize now I knew nothing of its true nature. As I write these words faces and names come to my mind. People I once knew but have lost contact with. Then there are also people who I currently call friends. The latter is but a lie I keep telling myself in hope of rescuing myself from falling further into depression. I don’t know what is worse, praying to be proven wrong or being grateful I have threads attached to this reality.
Some days the alternative seems to be the only road left to travel. Yet I remember these images left from better days of forging my own path. How good it felt to tear through the underbrush of life, ascend the sentries of the forest and bask in the radiance of accomplishment. As of late, I consider it an accomplishment if I open my eyes and survive.
It would be less grueling to survive each day if I knew I was missed, if I was wanted, if I was needed. To someone like myself whose mind instantly searches for practicality and necessity, it is the worst feeling in the world to realize you yourself are not needed. To draw the conclusion that most people who I interact with on a daily basis have no need for my presence is heart wrenching. To break it down in the simplest of terms, something unnecessary either has to be pretty, or have emotional attachment otherwise it is junk and deserves to be discarded.
Discarded. Now there is a blunt and ugly word. Is that all I am, a friend people can discard when I am no longer of use to them. When I am no longer funny, or cheerful. When I no longer pay for drinks or look the idiot. Where is the line I keep crossing which results in me being thrown out with the used pizza boxes and empty wine bottles?
I used to know but somewhere halfway through this game of life, the rules changed and I found myself no longer needed. Now I stand on the sidelines trying to make sense of the chaos before me and just when I think I have the rules figured out the game changes once more. If I turned and left, the game would continue on as if nothing ever happened. The best I could do now is cheer. Even still, I have no one to cheer for.
Mile 29 