Don't read this.
Feelings. I don't have any. Not lately. Not the feelings I "should" have. Everybody around me cares. I don't. He could die. I don't care. People that don't even know him want to save his life. I don't care. I must be a horrible person. I care about so many "little", "unimportant" things. I care so much about. I could cry seeing a leaf falling, a ray of sun, a beautiful flower. A look from my cat can make my day. He could die and I don't give a damn.
When I first heard about his disease I thought "Damn, why couldn't it be me?" I wanted to die my whole life and look, he is given the possibility right out. If I could only be in his place. I would go out, find a man and die having an orgasm. Or maybe even before. I could just die in the most beautiful way possible. And he wants to live. He fights for his life. Why? What the fuck is life all about? What ever could make it worth living?
He could die. I am responsible for his life. Me. The most irresponsible person in the world. The one who cares the less. How the fuck did I get this job? Just because I can do it doesn't mean I have to. Why did I accept? Why couldn't I just face the world and tell them the way I feel. I am envious of his disease . I wish it was me so I could fucking die already. I couldn't care less if he lives or dies. I almost wish he would die.
And in the mean time so many people want to help him get better. So many offer, so many give, so many fight for his life. His puny, unimportant, idiotic life. What the fuck is there to live for? He should be so grateful he can die, so happy. And now, not only that I have to live with my own failure to kill myself but have to live with the thought that I have saved a life. I helped. I was part of it. Me, who will never ever have a child because life is the worst thing that can happen to anybody.
Everybody cares. They call all the time, offering me a hand to do the worst thing I could ever do. How could I tell them I don't care? How could I tell them I wish he would have died so all this shit never happened? So all these people could go on with their life and not have to give up things just to make him live. All the effort, all the money, all the trouble. How can I tell them it is not worth it? How could I tell all of them I don't care?
And in the mean time I am the only person that can have the job. I have both time, possibility, skills to make it happen. It is like a curse, a sick joke from Satan, if God would exist, like a way to take away my soul, torment it, make me pretend. Pretend all those things just because it is the only way to save him. I don't want to save him but as long as I accepted the job, I will carry it until the end. And at the end I will probably wish I could bury myself in the earth and never come out ever again.
Because I will loose my soul till the end. All the lies, the deception, giving up my honesty for the first time. It is a good start to give up to all the things I ever believed in. It will look so good in my resume. So fucking good. And like never before, I will be offered the opportunity to start a management career the right way. I hate what I've become. I hate the way I will be after that. I loved the little lovable, silly, dear child, the eternal loser that I am.
I feel that my life crumbles. It is strange in a way. The "good" things that happen to me, all the things I have, all the opportunities, the money, the success, all the things some people would kill for and wish to have. They all make me sick. I hate them. All the things I need are so fucking far away and all I have is what the rest of the world dreams about. Like never before I wish I could die. Because my "soul" is dieing, turn into something I was always afraid I would turn into.
Everything is so wrong. I don't want to save the world like I wished when I was 5. Given the opportunity I would let it die. If only I could die with it. If I were to speak about this, nobody would understand. Shut up, he said. I loved him once, long time ago. Some things I still love about him. I wish someone would understand. If not approve, at least understand.
And I remember Him. My ticket to hell. I loved him too once. My brother. My soul brother. Not my blood but our souls were so much alike. My ticket to death. Lost him between pages, days, life. He was the one who gave me the promise of death and than left with a woman of life. So much of a life. Another one who fought for a puny unimportant life, a life of pain and misery like all lifes are. A life she loved and loves still I presume. They have so much desire for life, for future for the happiness they will never really feel. And him, the only one who ever understood, another one who was afraid of loosing himself. Like I loose me every day. I loved you, brother. I still do. I miss you. So much. I wish you would come back into my life and take it away, take me and leave together for the death we both desired so much. I know you still do. Just like me. And somewhere far away, your destiny is just like mine. And I know we shall meet again one day, the day we will be lost forever, buried in a life we never wanted but were forced to live. And than we will just touch each other again and feel it coming back to us, the secret desire, the wish for death. And the memory of our soul will make us shiver. And be afraid again. And hate what we have became. I loved you so much, and needed you even more. Still do.
I cry. Without tears. I wish the world would just leave me alone. Here, in my little corner of the world. Where I can cry without explaining why. Where I can still be myself. Where I can bury myself and forget I am alive. And I wish you would all understand. And die. And deserve the only good thing about life: the end of it.