These days

These are the days I sink, days I am in pain, I cannot move without a internalised whimper, where even the slow shuffle to the toilet exhausts me, where my eyes moisten up with every second of the silence that allows my thoughts to reflect upon the loss of future this reality has brought to destroy the aspirations of that 7yr old from 50yrs ago

These are the days where any motivation is described as in the past tense. The waking hours where the only viable wish is of the continuously disturbed slumber my current state of mind allows.

These are the days where the expectations of that 30yr old expectant father are reflected upon, and the harsh realisation of the subsequent failings upon his part, to challenge and deflect the manipulation through the most blatant of lies, which not only were accepted by those who he saw as his closest friends, but by his parents, his siblings and finally his children, meant his entire dreams of being a good friend, a good son, a good brother and most importantly a good dad were crushed for ever more.

These are the days this 57yr old man realises his life failed to meet even the smallest of his expectations. His time to take stock, and realise that his wants to change the world for the better always failed. That he, me, I failed.

These are the days I have to truly search,identify and fight for any good reason to remain. These are the days such a struggle becomes even harder. These are the days that soon could become “these were the days”.