Spring has come, and I die a little inside remembering the days when life seemed so much simpler and full of joy. "These are the best days of your life." they say. Well they lied. Looking back on my life so far, I divide my time into two categories: Before 2008 and After 2008. That's the year it all began. This freefall into the universe's black hole and my desperate struggle to climb back out and float once more amongst the stars. Those were the stars I used to go to bed with at night, when life had been kind enough to keep my faith alive. I remember those times when the sky held endless possibilities and summer lasted forever. Sadness hadn't yet disrobed for me and crawled under my covers like an oldtime lover. I could listen to a cello wail without feeling like the bow was being dragged across my heartstrings.
Now the music wails, the atmosphere wails, I wail. And I wonder if I'll ever know a love that doesn't fill me with such immense dispair. I remember how swollen my heart felt when you told me what you loved about different people, and how I fell short. I remember how much I wanted to cry - because I felt so alone and even worse, I agreed with you.
Sometimes I wish someone would take me by my shoulders, tell me to take off my stupid fucking mask, and let me cry into their arms about everything I haven't been given the chance to cry about before. I'm tired of feeling like the stray dog, the alley cat with the battered tail. Sometimes I want to lay down on the filthy New York City streets and stare up at the sky, watching clouds go by. I need a piece of pure, natural beauty to inhale me away from the dirty, rotten stink I've been sniffing for so long. I don't want to let myself become so numb to the point where falling down the stairs will feel the same as strolling through the garden.
What does it feel like to not be abandoned?