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What are you waiting for?
Distance is defined as the space between two objects. The finite and measurable approximation of relative proximity. And it fails in every way possible to distinguish the pain involved. The loss of a part of yourself as you leave someone behind. The way you want to die when they ask if you're coming back tomorrow. Distance does not account for the feeling of nonexistence just waiting on the sidelines for you to stumble.
Nonexistence is defined as the lack of presence in a given reality. Ironic that it's mening should so closely resemble the implied derivative of great distances. What connection is there? Is it worth fighting for? Is anything worth fighting for when it's all so far away from you? When all you want is to crawl under a rock and bury your head and beg whatever gods you think may have ever existed for the slightest bit of mercy and comfort. What's the purpose in fighting when it seems you alone are willing to fight? One man can change the world, so they say. And yet, what drive must one man possess to change that which desires to be left alone?
I have made my mistakes. I have changed who I was to get closer to who I know I should be. And still, a part of me is withering slowly every day. Burning with the desire to be freed from the cage I place upon myself with distance and time to be forgotten. Still, I wake in the night, desperately searching for things I have not had near for far too long. Still I dream of being close to that which I desire.
And still, I lay my head on my pillow. Fearing the dreams I know will come to taunt and mock me. Fearing the waking up I know shall be filled with an emptiness unabated. Fearing the way the light will hit something and make me think it will be you. Fearing the knowledge that despite it all, I will still hope it is, even though I know it cannot be. And still I lay my head upon the treacherous pillow, and welcome the tormenting dreams of love not mine, and embrace the coming of the too lonely morning. All in the hopes that one day, it will not be a dream. I know it is foolish. I no longer care. I am who I always was, only more honest with myself than ever before. I am alone in every way that no man should ever have to be. I am alone every day. It doesn't go away, it doesn't change. It is my life. I am coming to accept it, though I am using every ounce of my self to fight it off. But it is stronger than I am alone. And it is winning.
And perhaps, that is the saddest part of all.
