Finished
I trip. I stumble. I fall. I wait for the paws to lift me, but they never come. Never. So I crawl. I crawl along until some unwilling, inanimate object is used as a step-ladder. Then I stand again. I waver; I shake; I tremble. I fight my way to where I will find acceptance. Recognition.
Love.
I haven't allowed myself to even think the word in years. With Love comes Happiness. That's how I've always known it. I remember a time I knew what Happiness was…
Now I've come again. Thee are more here. One reaches out - My heart gives a leap - but he scratches me and darts away. Why do they want to hurt me? I don't understand….Another comes and touches me….It's been so long since I've been touched…
But I'm pushed away. Again. Now one hesitantly, slowly, reaches towards me…
No.
Nevermind…she's not what I thought. I hoped. I dreamed. I remembered.
Bast, the memories. They fill me; overwhelm me; consume me. They are me. They're all I have left…
I remember…I was beautiful. I was sexy. I was glamorous. I could have had any tom I wanted…but I wanted none. And now…it is too late. My chance has long since come and gone.
No more chances.
Still I hope for one. I pray. I beg. Nothing works…my hopes are crushed. My prayers are unheard. My begging goes unnoticed. Please…just one more chance…
I was young back then. Foolish. Reckless. I was going to stay beautiful forever. I needed no one
And now I had no one.
I stumble away. They don't want me. They never will. I just torture myself with the thought that maybe - maybe - someday…
I lurch back into the street. What do I do now? Oh, of course. I'll find some alley and curl up and…
Die.
I wasn't going to die. Back then, I was immortal. Dying wasn't in my plans. My plans. Nothing bad is ever planned…
But is death bad? Now, compared to the Hell that I call my life, is it bad? No. It can't be. Nothing can be worse than the torture and anguish they call 'lonliness'. Nothing.
I am finished.
