Everyday is the same. I wake up late, sleep late. And the time in between is just a blur. I watch the hour go by as I lie in bed awake. My eyes open. I stare at the ceiling. I breathe. I’m alive but I might as well be dead. If I die tonight no one would know. Days would pass before anyone even finds my body. The smell of rotting flesh would probably alarm my neighbors or anyone who passes by my unit.
I’m alive, yes. But I might as well be dead. I’m just one person. One of a billion people alive on earth and if I die tonight would my absence make a difference to anyone? My family and friends perhaps but I’m sure they’ll move on. In a year or so they’ll forget about the son they had, the brother they had, the friend they had. I will be missed no doubt but everyone will move on, go on with their lives and forget. They’ll mourn. They’ll cry. And eventually they’ll move on. They’ll go back to their old lives. Work. Play. Work. Play. So what’s the point in all these? Why prolong the pain when you can end it just as easily as putting a bullet through your head. Well, I don’t have a gun in the first place but you get what I mean.
There’s no other way to understand what it all means. We live. We die. What we do in between matters because of what? Our belief in heaven or our fear of hell? We live. We die. That’s the cycle of life. People come. People go. We remember. We forget. Sooner or later we’ll all die. We’ll be remembered. We’ll be forgotten. The people we meet and become part of our lives we’ll soon forget. People come. People go. Friends become lovers, lovers become strangers.
Every night I hope for a better tomorrow but tomorrow is just the same.
I was ready to start anew and forget about everything that happened last year – the good the bad and the ugly – everything that went down between me and my friends. The falling out was the hardest part of it all – the painful realization that things will never be the same again.
There’s really nothing more I could do now but accept what happened and learn from it hoping that I don’t screw things up again.
I apologized for what happened so many times I stopped counting but I guess they weren’t ready to forgive. I don’t even think I could forgive myself either if a friend of mine had done the same thing. But I was drunk… ok, that’s not an excuse I guess. A better excuse would be… I wasn’t thinking.