Pity Prayers

A Story by Days lost

N/a

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There are some who cannot receive love of any kind. They try, they almost believe, but love dissipates before them instantaneously. Thus love is considered but a legend, a myth that is rarely claimed true. Yet one more time does one reach out their hand hoping for the right person to take it and for a moment they do, but only to let go. It is an awful thing to go unloved for a being cannot go long. Now allow me to correct something; I seem to be mistaken for I have referred to this crisis as if "they" were the ones going through it, but it is "I". I am the one who cannot receive love. I am the only being that sees through a window fogged from friends who gradually erased me from their memories, stained by the echoes of the voices of friends who spoke harshly of my condition, and then looking closely one may find scratches made by my unbearable fear of being alone. I long for a hand that knows how to hold mine. The song that can soothe my screams. The warmth of another given by choice and not obligation. The 'because I want to' love is what I seek, but seldom do I find it. Seldom do I believe it is really here.

-The Pity Prayers