A litany of things that don't exist

I feel a sadness engulf me everyday, a loneliness that I doesn't deserve encouragement for all the wonderful people who fill my life and yet it's a there built brick by brick of every hour of a knowing the dream I allowed myself to dream, was encouraged to can no longer be.

In my mind's eye this wall with it's mossy, desolate perfection- a thing of beauty, is covered up by pretty curtains of embroidered goodness through the laughs I share and the smiles I construct. But it isn't real, I know this as much as the wall does, mocking me for an attempt to create an illusion that I depend so much on.

There are things I hate now. Things I loved and cherished but were built around another illusion that I was then too naive to disbelieve. I can list them from the thoughts that flood my mind every minute and so I will but every person who is me knows that it this isn't all, this isn't any.

1. I hate that I am now less than a number, less than $120,000
2. I hate that I can no longer feel happiness in seeing blue- not the blue of the sky, the blue of the ocean or the blue of a t-shirt I loved
3. I hate that every article of clothing I wear is a memory I want erased
4. I hate that I can't take a holiday without thinking of the many things that would be done differently in that other life
5. I hate that I will forgive so easily to reclaim the life I had
6. I hate that I have no center, that I can crave no longer for one because if I do find it, I will question it's validity
7. I hate that I cannot hate  
8. I hate that I would turn back time and do things differently if given the choice
9. I hate that I didn't know when I was being tested
10. I hate that  I could spot a lie and allowed myself to be convinced I was over-reacting
11. I hate that I overestimate how much I mean to people
12. I hate that I can't turn off my mind 
13. I hate that I can no longer be happy for other people, comparing their happiness to one of mine that was probably only an illiusion
14. I hate that it feels like every happy memory was a construction that was never real
15. I hate that I no longer hope and hate so much more the relief in that hopelessness

Some days

Some days I wake up convinced I will be fine.

I'm woken up by the ring of my alarm instead of another dream of you. I'm chained to no memories- not good nor bad. My clothes- washed over and over again since you last saw them, bare no smell of you on this morning. I don't feel the phantom of your touch every time I feel the wind on my skin nor hear your sigh in every rustle of leaves.

I know for certain on days like this that I will be fine; that it will get better. I have reason to believe that with time I will find every shard of my crushed soul and glue it together transforming into somebody more breathtaking and complete than you ever knew.

On days like these I'm told there's a skip in my step and a tune to my laugh.Nobody asks about the colour of my eyes or why I won't smile. They ask instead of my childhood- whether I climbed trees and pulled pranks. I laugh in response, my love for the universe bursting out of every pore of my being- gratitude for the many gifts I have received that I haven't earned, the many opportunities that seemed gift wrapped with my name on the label. The world is perfect under the bandage I've plastered on and I feel the mile deep gashes in my soul begin the slow process of healing.

Just as I settle into my peace, a corner of my mind unlocks- I see an image of the inevitable future. A future I want with all my heart for you to have of happiness, success, joy and most of all, of peace. I see that future without me and that isn't what reminds me I will never heal, it is seeing somebody else in every dream we shared. And so I begin again, from the very bottom, tying again to forget, not hope, not believe and to stop praying to Gods who won't listen anyway.
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I'm listening to Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd