I’m all alone in this world: A lament for Lesa and the loss of hope in general.

 

4-20-20

I found myself alone on the side of the road waiting for a bus to take me to my death. I was just a sad person with no hope of any kind, sitting there waiting for my time to run out. It seemed to me that I would never hope again or love again or find any happiness in this world. Downcast and forlorn I sat, wishing the world would just fucking leave me alone. 

Fuck. Now I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t dream -- I can’t do anything. I’m just so fucking pissed off right now. Goddammit! I'm sitting here, trying to think of a story to tell myself about why I’m feeling this way or, rather, not feeling anything. So what do I do, but sit here and work myself into a lather because I can’t even do any of these things to my satisfaction. I can’t speak my mind intelligibly. I can’t give myself the comfort that I need. 

All I can do is try to convince myself to sleep, but I can’t even do that because I’m not a good person, and I don’t deserve to sleep. I haven’t earned it. All I’ve earned is an ulcer. All I’ve earned is discomfort. 

So what do I do now? How do I even begin? Beginnings are over. Now is the time for slow dirges to be sung. No comfort to be found in anything. I wanted to try to tell myself, or you, or anyone, the story of how I wound up in this predicament. How did I get to this point where I cannot feel anything? 

I was sitting there, as I said, by myself, alone, none to give me solace, just me with my own thoughts. Nothing is coming out right, nothing is coming out at all. I sat there waiting for death to take me, for this life has used up all of its opportunities. The seeds of hope were too old to possibly ever grow anything. 

So what do I do now? Keep breathing? If I had a choice, if I had an off switch, would I have the courage to flip that switch one time for good? I don’t think I can do it. I don’t know what I am capable of. Simply existing? For how long? 

It seems to me that there was a time, not so long ago that I had encountered you again. I was given another chance to feel things like everyone else seems to be feeling. The desire to live crept back into me. I was lured into your car, and we went down the road a ways. I allowed myself to dream as we talked and planned and spoke of a future together. 

These dreams were pleasant, and I closed my eyes for a moment. Then you were gone in my dreams. I couldn’t find you anymore. It turns out, you were never there, and the whole thing was a dream. You had other things going on, and I was only a temporary flirtation in your mind. I found myself back out on the road again with no one in sight and nothing on the horizon. 

I couldn’t go back to wherever it was that you had found me, and I couldn’t go forward because there was nowhere to go. So I’m just sitting here in the middle of the desert, staring off into the infinite distance. If I keep walking in one direction, someday will I ever get out of this damn empty space? I doubt it. I don’t have the will. 

I don’t even have the will to gather my thoughts together and tend my garden. My mind is overgrown with disorganized thoughts, and I can’t even see the things that are tearing it apart. I don’t even have a visible enemy to fight. Just a lack of will. 

This is a stupid exercise. I’m speaking into a voice recorder that gets half of my spoken words wrong, and I can’t even vocalize the correct thing to begin with. Forget it just forget it. Fuck it all anyway. Fuck you and goodbye. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck...

 

** Transcribed from a text editor rant while walking. Edited slightly for grammar and clarity.