Me: I have a heavy burden, a very fragile one. With broken pieces, jagged pieces. I am tired, I’ve carried it all my life, World, can you help me bear it?
The World: No, I am busy, I am strong, I am shiny and new, I have no time for broken things. I have important things to do. Go on, go your own way, you are responsible for your self, don’t pretend to be weak, STOP with the self pity, go, go away, take care of it or not, I don’t care.
Me: Yes, silly of me to think I mattered. Self pity, is it self pity when the fear in you is so great that you are afraid you may not wake up tomorrow? But world, that is not your problem. I was born alone, I will die alone, and in between I will cope with my hell alone.
Maybe, hopefully, this is the lowest I will go, because, really, I cannot stand any more pain. Maybe this is the bottom and now I can only go up. At my weakest, I stand alone, and hope, and hope, and hope, for I have a most beloved son, whom I cannot leave alone.