It’s probably great exaggeration that last night was the worst night of my life. It was, without doubt, the saddest day this year. I cried for all that I lost, for what I’ve let myself become, for the factors affecting my mental state, for the pain that I feel that I let people into my heart, for not being strong enough to walk away before, for the fact that I’m alone, for taking my true friends for granted, for believing that I’d found love, for hoping for change, for being discarded for someone else, for all the things that I opened myself up to.
If I had given the slightest indication to at least 5 people that I was spending the evening alone, I know that they would have come over in a jiffy. So I lied (sort of) that I was busy…blah, blah. Yet, I chose to be alone – for I needed to handle my grief on my own. I surely wasn't destined for a pair of strong arms around me, just to hold me, to be with me... I never had it, I never will.
My heart is still heavy; might as well play a charade – I think it’s better to pretend than to bar your heart and soul for being honest and open brings nothing but pain.
In my dream I see the child standing with his brand new toy, the old ones abandoned. The fascination, the glee; he doesn’t see how that one will be soon destroyed, to be replaced with a new attraction. The abandoned toys lie listless, their spirits broken, some will hope to be picked up again, some just rot, and others hope that another child picks them up. The security blanket is torn to shreds – when the boy reaches out for it he’ll find himself alone, once again, for he cannot keep anything unbroken for long, not even the toys that he’s had from birth, neither the ones that had value in spirit.