Months ago, if you’d have asked, I would have probably said I was happy. Unconventional, yes, but happy nonetheless.
Fast forward to today (4/12/17), all of that carefully curated happiness has rotted away. The dream is dead, and hope is a cold corpse.
Now it’s just me, a cold room, 7am wake-ups, and a notification-less phone. Somewhere along the tricky lines of my once ‘bountiful’ social life, it went wrong. The love interests disappeared and the true friendships died out.
It’s winter now, and the bitterness that surrounds me, just tears away the skin, leaving little bite marks, tear shaped almost.
With the lovers all so obvious, amidst declaring their mutual love and sharing beds, I can only dream for everything that could of been, but just never was.
All those ‘I love you’s’ never amounted to much, everyone else moved on and forgot. For some odd reason I just lingered and let it fester. The over-romanticised past seems better much than the future, and that hasn’t even unfolded yet. If that doesn’t showcase a lack of optimism, I don’t know what does.
I can only wonder if this is some cosmic joke being played on me; I’m the cliche white male hipster, I know (don’t remind me). Hell, I swear sometimes when the headphones disappear, I can hear the laughing track.
The day’s are moving on now. I’m not a great person, I’ll be the first to tell you that. But something, has to change right?
ha, the joke’s on me.
Ben Brizell 