20241021 - 15:18
I don’t know why I am alive. I do not know. Why I am alive. She broke up with me. If I had less self respect I would beg her to give me a second chance. If I had more I would let her go. I constrain her. Ask too much. Am too hurt by things she does. Better to be without these expectations. Better to be free. Still, she wants a future. “Just not now, not like this.” So I am there when it’s convenient. Yet I’m too weak to let her go. I’ve never loved another. Now, I don’t know for whom I write. For whom I wake up in the morning, or why the sun rises. I don’t know for what purpose my tears stain my face, or why this pain is endured. I don’t know why I am alive. I don’t know why to bother. Everywhere I look is pain. Memories that serve nothing but to evoke the feeling of a heart torn asunder. Pain and emptiness is all that’s left. Without her, there’s nothing else. Thing will never be the same again. Aspirations, hopes and dreams? What are they but a longer walk, delays unto death? Why do we open up to life, give our all to it? Sorrows, pain, and ultimately, death; this is what awaits. I gave her everything. Now there’s nothing left.