I’m so very very sad, but I can’t tell anyone because I’m supposed to know better. The sadness makes it hard for me to focus at work, but I’m lucky to have a job, so then I get annoyed with myself for being sad at work. The man I loved the most ended up not caring so much for me. Most days I forget it went that way. Then sometimes I remember, and it’s the worst feeling in the world. Innocent people die every day. Good people are maimed or killed, yet here I am, able-bodied and pathetic, a prisoner to self-loathing. Wanting to change, but not doing anything because, what if that doesn’t work? I’m too old for all of this crap. Too old to feel this way. Too old to not be where I want to be in life. Too old to have no f’ing clue how to make something of myself that I will no longer regret.
image- Luckie 13