Elucidating Questions

Maybe I was just put here to suffer

To record suffering

If not, what for?

I’m not doing much else

And I say it’s like hell

But it was already like hell before this

So, what, super hell?

I had a dream last night

We were talking about something

And then I realised in the dream that you spoke to me as if you hadn’t before in other dreams

And I just felt this relief

Affection

Maybe that was my brain telling me it’s not too late

It was still so sour to wake up and remember it

If it’s not too late, what is it?

This long stretch

There’s just so little I can do

From here

And all I seem to be doing is suffering

Is it sufficient?

If it was wouldn’t the door have opened or you would have said something

I need proof that I’m alive

It’s so hard to tell

So lonely that sometimes I swear the house is speaking

If only someone would

Be my proof of existence

So few people see me

I feel like a ghost

A ghost that just wanders this island suffering

On this island

Everyone has their problems here

But when I suggest not suffering they adamantly cling to their problems

Like they should have them

The most beautiful hell

So alive

Can we not help everyone?

But I sit in the deep

Contemplating my life

My existence

The fact that I have to die after this has been my entire life

The Winds calm me

If only I could smash that fucking wind chime

Not yet

No death yet

If you could only see how I interact with the wind

But it’s invisible so no one will ever know

No one will ever know any of it

Not unless they read

But could I continue to write knowing who was reading it?

I wish for nothing but to live in general comfort

Because my body doesn’t allow me a moment of physical comfort

It seems so far away and unlikely

I wish for but never expect there to be people physically in my life in the future

At the very least can’t I just live a quiet, comfortable, life?

I don’t know how any other person on PWD is living in a house right now

I’m better off than so many people

And I don’t understand how people let people even get to my level of destitute

So much farther to sink

There will probably be a time I can’t write anymore because I won’t have internet or a phone

If only someone would

Stop this falling

I didn’t even jump I was pushed

It’s wrong to expect someone to help me

And I’m sorry I still wish someone would

I’m sorry I need them to

There’s so much going on.

I need a vacation