Melancholy

My thought process has been hijacked by darkness and frost. I used to hold back my tears but increasingly so, I find my eyes dry even though they still sting.

My condition has cornered me into living a full, meaningful like or watching myself wither over time. I just keep falling, desperately trying to grab onto anything that resembles hope and purpose. Yet, all I find is slimy, slippery filth.

When my sister was sick, she regressed and became child like. She occasionally asked for hugs from my parents and she even talked like a child. I turned to my parents when I found out about my condition. Unlike cancer, my condition seems harder to comprehend for them. Strange but they are still the ones I seek for strength and comfort despite their age and own fragility. Almost immediately after I spilt the beans, my dad told me keep my woes from my mum. She worries too much and it affects her very negatively.

I searched my dad's face for any sign that I matter. Without sounding self centred, I'm the one sick and need support. Yet I m expected to show resilience and 'fix' myself. My empathetic and counsellor side noticed weariness and sadness in his eyes. He's an old man and he really doesn't know how he can help me (not that I am asking for help).

When I needed my parents then, my sister needed them more. I was left to fend for myself. Now I m again alone. I cannot begin describing the loneliness building up on me.