I’m in it. I find myself with no emotions. I’m a blank. I feel and care for nothing. I may smirk at the amusing, but I feel tethered here against my will.
Some have the courage to say goodbye. I hold on for the love of my mother. I don’t want to see her cry.
People never realize the damage they do, until after they have done it. And no words can take away the sting and the wound. It is done. It can’t be ‘undone’.
I am poor and powerless. I am destine to suffer.
I always wondered what my ‘purpose’ in life was, since this illness came upon me, I have been lost. My plans for the future have all been one by one taken away from me and I am a waste of space. Using borrowed air, I did not earn.
My purpose is to suffer. To be constantly kicked aside and in the head. To be that poor bastard, so others can say, ‘whew, glad that wasn’t me’.
I am the example of what NOT to be.