If there's anything I've learnt in these hurting times, it is how bruises crept into me, unawares, unannounced. Here I am one day, coping up famously, and the next minute I've collapsed within myself, in a paroxysm of uncontrolled depression. Without raising a thought, I'm hurt grievously. The world just doesn't understand. Nobody can see a hurt - hence I can't be.
Whilst, in the meantime, I am sinking, sinking, in a morass of undefinitions. There's no end to the depth, there's no recognizable sign of what drags me in, what is the nature of climate change that it is both a famine and a flood, where I'm empty and swollen, where I want to grasp whatever I can, as if it's the last straw of the world, and when unable to hold anything, I just let myself go. I rage and cut myself, and break glass, and hurl myself where there is empty space, I can visualize the worst and know it's the end of the world for me, I don't expect understanding, I don't expect help, I don't recognize help, I know my life to be in the hands of something without definitions, unloved, unappreciated, hung in the middle of nowhere where nobody visits, a place of abandonment, where only the rejects reside - me, me , me.
And I ask myself, why am I needed? What am I worth to anybody? Why is a life of value, why is anything of value? The flowers, the breeze, the insects, the eagles, the flies, are paraphernalia to create a world of falsehoods, where everything is marketed, and everything sold is instantly useless.
And I say why do I exist, why do I live, why am I here, what can I contribute, what do I matter. What do I matter? What do I matter?
And I tell myself goodbye. I'm not sure if I appreciate myself leaving myself alone. But that's the only place left to go.
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