It's hollow and dark grey. The tears are stuck. As if there is a clogging somewhere between my throat and eyes. There is a sense of urgency which I tend to ignore. My eyes check to make sure no one is watching. Then, I hide them as they slowly beg for some form of what I would be embarassed to call mercy. I am surprised to find the difference in what I once felt was loneliness and what I now feel is abandonment. I suppose it's the contrast by unconsciously having accepted an independent life that is simply alone. Strength has become my only illusory comrade and my unforgiving enemy. I reach out my hand as I drown in what is externally the great point in my life.
I love my family. More than I can understand. But I feel neglected. I can talk no more of this because I love them all too much and because it hurts all too much. I appreciate my friends. Though they seem to be lost. Not in this world but to me. I can't help but withdraw from them for the lack of sincerity and devotion that they have proven to me. I've come to fear them as though accepting them just a little more will shred me to the pieces I don't have left. I'm not sure I believe in love anymore, or if I ever did. And the little girl inside me who tries to hold on to the wish for its blissful curse doesn't know that the wish might become her cancer. I don't approve of myself. I never have. I have never been my own family or my own friend, and not even my own enemy. I have never felt like I am me. My reflection makes me wonder who that pathetic girl is. I sometimes sympathize rather than empathize with myself. Is that strange?
And the one thing I have known all my life and that I have always strived for and felt I could succeed in is giving up hope on me. I have always desired to be a doctor for as long as I can remember. I have worked far too hard. In every way possible. In every sense possible. And now coming to amends with the fact that it's possible I will not be able to meet my life's one left ambition is improbable. And even more difficult because I am completely alone. It's like all my karma that is trying to burn out is running its course through the lack of understanding and the lack of acknowledgment towards me.
I kept thinking I was really strong. I even almost wrote a blog about it last week. But then I understood how commonly I mistake my inability to seek help, and my misfortune to forever be alone, as strength. I believe so faithfully in trying to live life to the fullest but it's far too difficult when my insides are only dying.