Today is such a terrible day and no surprise it’s a festival. The weather is terrible. The world feels terrible. And it really is no surprise it’s a holiday for a festival.
It’s as if written in my destiny that terrible days will be when everyone else is celebrating. That terrible news will come when everyone else is becoming more enthused about life. I am so overtaken by dismay for this life that I feel powerless. I keep trying and being strong but today even tears don’t feel like catharsis.
There’s screaming in the other room. They’re fighting again. How many years of this has it been? I’ve lost count. I thought things could get simpler when we were older, but it’s the same disaster on repeat. I didn’t imagine to want the same world as all others. The people I looked up to have forsaken me to a disappointment I could not have predicted. The inspiration I got from belonging to the world has been snatched whole by the power moves of despondent thieves.
I have lost my appetite. I don’t want a drink. We smoke boxes of cigarettes in separate rooms to ignore this is happening. How have we learnt to be so quiet about this miserable life? It only comes out in indiscriminate rage of being so terribly neglected. So uncared for, fielding off the attacks from vultures has been our whole life. It’s getting tougher by the day to find some relief.
Still I want to put on a brave smile for her and let her know I am here. I send her a text message and closely listen for movements. I will like to disappear but I am so afraid of that moment of resolve when people tend to forget there is love remaining. From all quarters of the heart, blood stops to flow. I am so afraid of losing another person I have loved. To feel like I could have done something to change things.
But everything hurts and I am weak too. I’ve lost friends, my job, any promise of sanctity. The money isn’t there, the family never was. I feel as if I’m complaining but truly where is the choice? The choice of survival is not optional. It is or it isn’t. There’s not much to hold on to, except this faith I’ve always had in myself. I’ll like to say the songs help but sometimes now, I become unsure. That well of temerity feels depleted.
I don’t know what happens next. I had forgotten about the concerns for the future. I feel as if I am flapping my arms about in the deep end of the pool, trying not to drown. Thinking of all the ways in which I can continue. So I write some more, to people who may choose to respond. Then I lie in my bed and wait. If I move, I move slowly. Maybe soon the day will be over. That won’t be so terrible.