December 3, 2017
Roads are not forever straight. Neither is our day. The dusty coat that hangs on our shoulders now has fitted itself on our body. Our arms trapped in it, and our legs can barely take a step. Our heartbeat misses a beat or two, as our breath gets locked in our throat. Anxiety. Depression. Our inner world has been painted black. Let me out of this hell. Loneliness.
We scream out, but not a soul hears us. We walk out the door and right back in, to see if anything changed. No. Loneliness is a killer of the heart.
Loneliness derived with no family connections is a cliffhanger. Your balls of your feet rock back and forth in the pain that surges through your body. Nobody hears your scream.
Phone stays dead. The door doesn’t echo with a knock. Loneliness kills.
Is there a cure for this sharp pain? That knife that turns, as you daily here about others’ children, family and so on until you just want to scream-stop.
My head doesn’t stop throbbing. At sixty-six I never viewed my life to end this way. Only ones caring are those in my spirit group.
Damn, I let go of saying I’m alone. Now, all hell breaks loose. Words are an addiction to us, and when you give them up, they will attack in vengeance.