I used to be less cynical, I used to believe that you only get given in life what you can cope with. that those things that challenge you allow you to grow as a human being.in strength and character.
I used to believe.I used to hope.I used to have a little less of this emptiness nestled inside of me.
there are people worse off, there are people watching their children die of starvation, or who have cancer, or are caught up in wars, living in constant fear.
what right do I have to feel what I feel. to be calling this, suffering.
This year, this year feels like a sick joke. one almost certainly not complete in its telling.
no matter how strong I end this year, all I can think of is that this. this is nothing in comparison to real suffering. And that I, am nothing in comparison to those people living with worse.
did I do the wrong thing, by for once thinking of myself. and walking away from the pain my father caused.
do I feel guilty now only because that is what I do best?
I keep hoping that it isn't true.
that he hasn't had a stroke. that it's a story.just a story...
I wait. but there is nothing.
I cannot type more.
there is only silence left.