resignation

 People always say that they fought for me, but never enough to matter. 

The challenge is to keep a straight face when they say how unfair it all was – when they tell me I didn’t/don’t deserve it. The answer I give is always the same: “what’s done is done”. What else can I say? The word “sorry”… the phrases “I didn’t mean to-” / “sorry for the trouble”… These, they have no effect on me. Not anymore. 

I have accepted that I must live with the hurt of it all. I will not make the mistake of being so understanding and accomodating as to forgive the evident disrespect. At least, not again. 

Apologies and late onset remorse from others mean nothing. I’m not after vindication. What matters to me is that I close chapters – that I scratch all of it off from my memory. My heart is so desensitized, now, that the notion of attachment is something I’ve detached from. Maybe I'm not meant for love. Maybe I will forever be the muse. Temporary. But, c’est la vie. 

I resigned myself months ago. I’ve lost touch with myself. So far, I have only followed what other people expect of me. 
  
I'm living with a disease alone. And that’s the way it must be. No one understands it. No one really wants to. I think people are just scared of the implications. Simply reading the descriptions sends shivers down my spine – “manic episodes” / “hysteria” / “periods of highs, followed by severe lows”. 

This disease is not tangible. It’s common that I hear: “You, really? Nah, you don’t seem like the type to be that way.” 

A drug addict wanders in on the tram – often, coked out of their mind; lost in time. I wonder, sometimes, what led these people to this – who were they before all of this? Did they have dreams? Was it mental illness – did they take to drugs to numb the painful existence of it all? If yes, could I end up like that, eventually? 

Someone asked me today: “are you leaving because of the opportunity you were given or because things got difficult and you're running away?” 

Maybe, maybe this is the last time I will run away.

At this point in time, this is my decision. 

It’s done. I’m tired of thinking about the future: planning things out. I’m not disciplined enough to follow routine. That much about myself, I know. I like myself this way. 

Extensive planning never resulted in anything productive.