The Leech

It is never enough, I have failed myself and the ones I care so deeply for. I used to say that it wasn't my fault, but it is, it's always been my fault, and it is ushered by a lifetime of excuses. I used to be the guy with the plan, I used to be the one with answers. Now, as I sit alone wondering how I will look at myself in the mirror the next time I shuffle past it, I want to crawl out of my skin, I want to give up. I'm tired, so very tired of seeing disappointment in the eyes of those I want to love me. I want someone to tell me that they are better for having me in their life, that I will be ok, that all is not finished but a new chapter is before me, a better one. But no one does, they tell me of all the things I need to stay around for, things I have neglected. "How will I explain this to..." Just another way I've let someone down. 

I'm told that these thoughts are just a part of a chemical reaction in my head. That, what I am feeling isn't something that is real, to ignore it, be stronger than it. How do I find strength? Stronger? how am I supposed to find strength to overcome myself, like an oily leech, pulsing to the rhythms of my heart beat, it drains me of all that I have. It's somewhere hidden away deep inside me, I cannot find it, I just know that it is consuming me piece by piece. It prefers to feed on hope, but will settle for happiness, love, willpower, it will feed on anything I have thats positive, and corrupt it, twist it and create something with buttons for eyes that watches and waits until I am at my weakest, then it starts to eat at my insides. It begins to take away what I have that is physical. My muscle and body tissue becomes it's meal. No longer is there any fat on my frame to entice this darkness. The waste it creates after eating the good things in me has taken care of that. A fond memory of full meals and succulent dishes is also taken. The leech eats my strength and leaves in its wake, fear, despair, loneliness, depression. it must think these are things that are better suited for who I am now. All it asks in return is a nominal fee of hope.

Tomorrow I am supposed to get out of bed, dress myself, and prepare for the day. I make lunch for those who actually have a timeline, something to do. I pour the coffee and place the creamer, and smile. I wonder if those who see me know it's just for them. Would I be missed? Maybe for a night, a lifetime, there would be no more indentation where my head rested on the pillow. Coffee would still get poured, but it wouldn't be by my hand. Would it matter that I didn't pack a lunch? Maybe you'd be able to buy a lunch if you didn't have me draining you, like my leech drains me. 

I want to see the good people who aren't in my life everyday, everyday. I want to sit in the sun, and really smile, and really laugh with them. Today those are luxuries, things that are nice to think about, but only until you realize that you can't have them. Then those thoughts work against you, they mock you. "Do you remember when...?" Maybe a lifetime ago, but I'm tired now and I think I will sleep. Those days are gone, and if I can sleep, maybe I won't dream, maybe I won't have to remember. Do you think if it looks like an accident they will have something to blame? Then they won't stand around the ground and say I shoulda, coulda, woulda. No one would claim fault or imply that they missed the signs. They would just have to accept it... no hard feelings.

I don't want to start over! Maybe that is how the ending is decided. People always say that the premature end must have been because life was unbearable, but maybe it wasn't, maybe it's trying to get to a place that you would consider living thats unbearable. You can wake up everyday and do, and say the right things. You can smile that perfect smile, and comb your hair, and clean your body, you can do it all, and at the end of a string of failure after failure, you realize that you cannot make people see who you are. You are not cut out to compete against those who do not need to compete. A day away from disappearing every moment. Did they even notice how hard I tried? Did they know that I would have done anything they asked. Just give me a chance, one chance, please! ...and then I walk out, they will never know that this was my last chance, my last shot at trying. there will be no follow up calls, there will be no second appointment. Maybe they will call, to late. The phone will ring to a disconnected number. I wonder what they will think? Most likely they will shuffle my papers into the trash bin and maybe sigh at the wasted time, "he was over qualified anyway." They won't know that that call, a day sooner may have changed everything for someone, maybe many someones, because then "I wouldn't have to explain this to...."