As yet another “delightful” year draws to a close the realisation that nothing is going to change is as formidable as ever.
Honestly I don’t know why I’m even holding on anymore.
A sense of legitimate dread that I will forever be compelled by my fears pursues me like a shadow. And the severe anxiety over the obvious notion that I am on my way to becoming a spinster who resides with her aging parents is palpable .
No dozen canines nor furry felines for company.
No space to call my own.
No liberation nor sense of security.
Just myself and two capricious individuals, unintentionally intent on destroying what little self-esteem remains.
Living a life of below mediocrity.
One without dignity but teeming with discord.
Not actually living and yet hardly surviving.
I physically have nowhere to go but in my mind copious places to be. I can’t seem to locate that path or find my way in or out; regardless of how hard I pray.